Two crimson pillars uphold a blue-greyish nebula from which two jets of white plasma erupt. Of the sculptures he has made and makes, this one is him.
With strands of protons laced in fractals, he dresses his sculpture to guard himself from the happenstances of the universe, to be in harmony with the happenstances that are in it.
His smile radiates the energy of a pulsar, which, serving as a beacon, lights an uncertain future where crimson pillars, nebulas, and jets of plasma are depicted in different possible scenes, which form before the spiral galaxies that are his eyes.
In each breath, he imbibes the brane of the cosmos, and as he exhales, constellations sway on the waves upon which the universe reposes, upon the waves upon which he reposes.
His smile, a beacon that guides his eyes, seeks the destiny he wants to find in an uncertain future of different possible scenes, a destiny that is always marked by two verdant spiral stars.
