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I saw Petrillo while he was painting.
His hand was moving transported by
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an invisible force. He
lived for his art
and only for his art.
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His morning walk from
via Margutta to Piazza del Popolo with his loyal
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greyhound was a ritual for him. While he was walking he dreamed
about
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the painting that he was working on.
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He wished that life in
Rome would be different and often used to bemoan |
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authority's lack of
sensitivity towards art.
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He saw the world in a
complexity of sensations which went beyond human |
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and he wished to
transport everything on canvas.
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