The world, reality, are mysteries that will never be revealed. Like the veil of Maya: behind the veil there is not truth but another veil to be unveiled.
Reality, this reality, is determined by our senses.

But the senses, they limit us.

Fortunately, there is imagination.
Creativity is our key to transcendence. With her guiding us, we can fly there where the senses do not take us: into the world of intuition, archetypes, feelings, emotions.

Places that have no colors, no temperatures, no space and no time.
Places non-places, where the word that determines the boundaries is: freedom.

This often prompts us to imagine that the reality around us is just one layer of a great iridescent mosaic.
In Saturn's Ring, Luke sets out in search of a magic ring, and this will lead him to discover the multidimensionality of reality, the rewriting of destiny.

In The Labyrinth of Hope I also deal with this theme, in a way-you will see-much more ambiguous.
I stay on the liminal border between perception and reality.
Between projection and empirical.
There where "What I believe defines what is."

So I work on the multidimensionality of the real. Sometimes fantastic, sometimes imagined.
But then, come to think of it, what's the difference?
Is a fantasy less real than a fear? Is a dream less real than reality?
And as I like to say: is a ghost less real than a guilt?

We are multidimensional beings because, living in the realm of perception, we create -- each of us -- our own dimension, in which there are many shared rules, but there are also subliminal, hidden, unspoken rules that guide us.

How many do not walk under a ladder?
How many greet the sheep on the side of the road?
How many listen to their horoscope or seek advice from seers?

We are multidimensional beings and don't know that we are.

Think of the dimension-now so fashionable-of digital.
We have an identity that belongs exclusively to that dimension. Friends we hang out with only in that dimension.
Information, art, curiosity.

The digital is a dimension of the real. Isolating to "real" reality, but then, in that reality, we weave bonds, we get excited, we grow.
So how can you say it is less real than reality?

It is different.
We are multidimensional beings in that as well.

I'm not the first to say that, and I won't be the last.
And who knows, someday science may prove it empirically: that this reality is shared with other infinite realities, in which everything is different.

At that point, in that ocean of possibilities, my main question remains.
The same question I ask myself in The Divine Adventure, in The Ring of Saturn, and also in The Labyrinth of Hope.

In this infinite, recursive, fractal mosaic..
Is the soul perhaps the constant?

I will continue to search for an answer.

In the meantime,