By Rui A. Pereira

A new day is born, a look around opens: the foresight of a reality like so many others. Outside time lurks us, spies us, with the indifference of all those who, step by step, unrelated converge to everything. Daytime nurturing is not enough to light up the wasted hours – behind is the blurred memory that dissipates the most insignificant expectation of joy. And a flash in the breaking of darkness is like a narrow path that when you know your lighted path you discover its treasure. The unobstructed by the light flows into a new place: a boat, a caravel, a red heart, with an angel and / or a devil at the prow spread us the wings to the most fickle winds and sail, and fly, bursting out a whole imagination enchanted by parable. In this then discovered world we find new forms, the terracotta body matter, colour-shaped objects, with hands that touch, that adjectives, inventing new residents in this new home. And so a horse is invented, colour of fire, swift as the wind and vain as a dazzling blue and green flower. On this horse we can keep all our secrets because this is also a chest, a ceramic box where we store all the colours of the rainbow, our colourful boy or girl goodies in a lovely pot. And the rooster cock-a-doodle-do that sings the new dawn awake to the dream of this magical universe. The white-and-yellow chick, with a frizzy hairstyle, makes her first words sound, according to a language figured by this new friend tweet-tweet, and with spring pink flowers are born and the florist walks with her basket all over this place making known what blooms and a white jar has a face that smiles at us with its heart shaped lips and the eyes look like two suns.

And in this forest full of flowers walks a black bad wolf, which he here was never, because here everything is bewitched by the scent of yellow, white roses and other colours, with marigolds that are well-you-want-me and other plants that burst with the spring fantasy. And a snail, with its shell, transports this house of ours, which is his house, which is also a ceramic pot, and is essentially the idea of ​​our protective home, of our most fraternal world. And here the golden king is not a tyrant, he does not want everything just for him, he is not selfish, he is not the “Sebastian” who eats everything, everything, everything… is Mr. “Moustaches” always available to help, to do his best, so that together animals and humans coexist in solar and nightly harmony. The days here are born, fall asleep and never die – a never ending full life, because Inês Melo’s limitless imagination is the motto for these ceramic pieces that you embrace and offered to us to delight us with our own eyes.