phylactere: Those old doors, old pots, old sculptures… They bear the memory of the human culture, the roots of the question “who i am” beyound the individual. My body is an echo of the history; this things that were here before me and which will

phylactere: Those old doors, old pots, old sculptures… They bear the memory of the human culture, the roots of the question “who i am” beyound the individual. My body is an echo of the history; this things that were here before me and which will

phylactere: Those old doors, old pots, old sculptures… They bear the memory of