Oceano Viola

In Scriptures and in the most ancient cosmologies, water always constitutes the first element. A theme already embraced by Filippo Sorcinelli: in the Book of Genesis, the Spirit hovers over the waters, prefiguring every creation (Ruah).

Water thus assumes the tone of mystery: violet, as the extreme synthesis between spirit and flesh, between impulse and contemplation. Violet holds within it the red violence of blood and the blue distance of the sky. It is the incarnation of the boundary.

The violet ocean therefore offers itself as an archaic, pre-linguistic experience. A kind of celestial placenta from which consciousness is reborn, transformed.

In the heart of the third part of Twin Peaks – The Return, the violet ocean emerges as a cosmic threshold, fluid and luminous. A sea without defined limits. An expanse vibrating with purple and mystery. David Lynch presents it as womb of pure consciousness, origin of being, and dissolution of identity.

In that landscape, time expands. Reality renounces its linearity. Man drifts in a liquid universe, crossing a sea of violet light to be reborn elsewhere. Cooper does not enter it to lose himself, but to access a wider truth. In that expanse, no boundaries exist: every figure merges and every sound becomes body. Matter itself appears as symbol.

This ocean precedes every word. It exists as pure vibration and presents itself as an archetypal image of transformation.

The monolithic bottle recalls the weave of canvas with its torn sheet. Painting becomes surface. Violet becomes skin. The sea becomes breath.

The message caught in the safety pin is carved upon the cap, resting as a living relic, evoking instability, provisional closure, a wound held together by makeshift means, an ambiguous protection. Everything is precarious, doubled, poorly stitched. Things appear still, yet tremble in their tears. Worlds seem united, yet a tremor reveals the abyss with the artisanal manuality of pain—as if the human psyche were a frayed garment, held together by a gesture of urgency.

This perfume lives in the continuity of a single intuition: that every violet sea leads to truth, that every inclined rectangle opens a passage, that every life is sacred and walks the edge between two worlds without losing its center.

Every brushstroke is a wound seeking the light. It transfigures what it touches. It illuminates what it grazes. It elevates what it embraces, even through violence.

Every note speaks the language of the invisible. With iris, the skin is clothed in mystery, in that form of contemplative beauty that refuses to shout, seducing through silent wound, inviting toward the threshold of the absolute.