Through meanders of intrinsic chambers inhabited by beloved ghosts ; long forlorn shadows, escaping from their realm, piercing through the strata and the debris of eons and ages.

The path betwixt worlds proceeds uphill.
The wreaths of haze, the only dividing line.
Spiritual bridges in infinitesimal appearances.
Impending ovations approach like winds, being felt and yet untouched.
Behind the scene they keep beckoning.
...........

Jordan Koussis projects his personal insights, painstakingly hand painting his pictures. More often than not inconspicuously, the color is being subdued to memory's whims, rearranging time sequences, endowing pictures with a vision of individual perspective.

Words -with love- of Nicolas Georgopoulos, poet.




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