Actual society leads us to a certain degree of neurosis. We always need to be reachable, in a frenetic way. We have a lot of choice, too much maybe, that even love, which by definition should just be, becomes a question mark. We need to plan, when, where, how long, with who and why. We’ve forgotten how to be. We have the urge to fill the silence with words, to build houses over fields and we forget to loose our souls in contemplation. Of nature, always there.