Khosro Berahmandi

My paintings are often the dreams of my eyes. Flowing from my eyelids, they drift into the night to find shelter. The more I sleep, the more I see.

The dreams engrave a prism onto my dark eyes through which I discover the light. Like the moon, like us, the colours are born out of obscurity. It amazes me that from such hollow caverns appear such dimensions, suspended from winding paths, emerging from infinite air.

There I wait for the dreams to cascade from my eyes to their destiny which is your eyes.

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