When his bow and arrow no longer sufficed, Cupid resorted to a laser rifle in the Milan of 1955 AD. In a deconsecrated industrial cathedral the original masculine structuralism was coloured baby blue, while the feminine intent balanced the fate of the spatial coupling with pink organicism.
Compression and expansion catapulted metropolitan castaways into unexpected oceans, where an atoll interrupted in the midst of the blast became their destination.
A tongue of broken crystal punctuated by mutant caryatidis and omenoni offered warm beaches of yellow flames rising skyward.
It was love, perhaps, if from the height of terraces overlooking the ocean giant daisies were being stripped. It was certainly sex, if the private parts were painted blue and Bordeaux, in keeping with the philosophy of the boudoir. While silhouettes evoked memories, a cinemascope hearth sputtered with images in successions, stirred up by a muezzin who from a tower on the coast led the beat of modern prayers. The ancient Chinese wisdom set into the steel of frames on the garden was the ideogrammatic solution to this spatial rebus: love grows on sex.