Here we are… on the topography of our alienated, amnesiac and dissected civilisation. During the course of this summer, the historical whirlpool I fell into by the way an ancient shipwreck, Uluburun, and the consecutive research that catapulted me back in 14th century BC, developed into a certain perspective which I would like to communicate with my next film project. It’s a big puzzle piece in my system of spiro-mental navigation; Map of the Universe, which focuses on concretising what appears to be abstract. What I see is a layer of continuous information, in my opinion, that no archeologist/art historian could possibly deliver. I see our story, spelled out for someone whose work is the archeology of the human psyche, my domain as a poet, decoding and encoding reality into a meta-language with no objection other than purifying the communication of the essential fruits of consciousness, cultivated by the vitality of human experience across ages, preserved in objects, images, sounds and words, as if inscribed by a single person to be read by a timeless generation only by the way of its emotional intelligence. The terminology I use here, maybe for the first time, publicly, heralds the full and mature arrival of what I will leave to the children of the world. No industry, ideology, culture or epoch shall outlive this current and definitive apex. I am equal to the entire human race, by how I personify time and space… These words, don’t belong to me, but I belong to them… — 9, Roma