whispers of a shell

I've just started a new series inspired by and dedicated to all those people in-between, struggling to defend their dignity and their personality. The so-called losers (did I mention that I hate this word?) are far from being the romantic figures unfit for their society,
In their condition I find contradiction and complexity…an enigmatic storm of uncertainty and self confidence, destructive pride shouting in an empty room, "…profound disgust showing itself the minute they come into irksome contact with men…".
Their being different is a "threat" for society's peace and sake, no one can not be shocked by something or someone new and "obsolete". The "strange" becomes a "stranger", a stranger to whom? who is the stranger? The new arrived or the one standing before his eyes, so different and sure to be the perfect one? What right has normality to put abnormality aside, in the corner of shame or relegated to the fringe of frustration? Is it time that defines who is the right one and who the one to fall, in the depths of nothingness, only because of his lack…of what?! What is richness, what poverty…there was a time when ornaments and exuberant complexity where the "right" thing, some time later the triumph of the "less is more"…Kandinsky said that art reflects the soul of its time, is the child of its society…so it is society that decides and recognizes what is right, or rather, its soul…sick soul…maybe the perfect (or imperfect) mirror of our sick society is him! This is my tribute…just giving words to those who don't or can't speak…of course, for those who want to hear. The project is ongoing…