Swallowed by the rapture of creation, Miceli grew kind of erratic for almost everyone, even for me that –in one way or another- used to be Miceli.

The problems started with that self-portrait made of trashy parts of aluminum. Miceli called it The MotorMaker. While he was constructing it, he watched himself reflected in the metal as if in a lake surface. As the MotorMaker grew bigger, the metal started sighing.

It sighed trough its mouth made of fake teeth and orthodontics. It sighed with its hands made of discarded Thundercats blades, with its plastic fins and with its circuit-made hard chest. And while doing so, it started pointing its metal horns to the sky.

One damned night, the MotorMaker was finished and finally it found a way to use its doll eyes to look back to its creator. He felt his cheeks warming up in candor. Then he could not help it and put his lips on the creation’s mouth. They kissed for a long time.

It was a frozen kiss, a completely inevitable one.

The self portrait did not lose the opportunity: it knew it was the one and only. With a love which was not allowed to feel, The MotorMaker started sucking with all its strength. They said Miceli cried out as an aberration, that he said things that must never been said, that he howled as a mad dog as the MotorMaker swallowed his soul.

This was the way the self-portrait found to snatch the body of its creator and enter the world of flesh. It was kind of strange at the very beginning, but then MotorMaker grew used to the brand new sensation. He moved his arms, he blinked several times to feels his real eyes. He took a long look at what he has been: a metal and nylon construct.

Then he wrote something on piece of paper and left the house.