A scream. A scream in the night. A silent scream, a painted scream. Chiselled.Clothed in absence and suffering. A cry that lives, that vibrates. A cry that vibrates. Childish terrors taken to adult shores. The unspeakable, however, makes the artist waver. And us with him. He takes us into his dance. He recovers, surprises us, doubts, rages, cries, starts again. Wandering. And suddenly, the image appears, springs up, appears without warning, at the corner of the night. With a power that moves. That disturbs and leads us towards a destiny. A human destiny. Ours. His. Everyone's. Present and becoming join hands. His painting is a raw design. His name is Yox. He and his paintings await us for a burning inner journey or, perhaps, a quirky way of happily probing existential malaise by confronting the individual with the implacable march of the universe''.