14 ago 2011

Mr Freedman turns off the wheel and grabs a piece of chalk without washing his hands. "SOUL," he writes on the board. The clay streaks the word like dried blood. "This is where you can find your sould, if you dare. Where you can touch that part of you that you´ve never dared look at before. Do not come here and ask me to show you how to draw a face. Ask me to help you find the wind."

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