French cat.

by Anna Colombo

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Being mysterious and independent, lazy and elusive, electric and caressing, among all animals the cat is the most present figure in literature. An inexhaustible source of inspiration for various poets (including Charles Baudelaire), the cat has been and is the protagonist of many books, fables and stories of every era.

I don't own a cat, but it has always intrigued me, I find it a curious and mysterious animal. I would be watching it with interest. I believe that there is nothing sweeter than the feeling of peace it instills when it rests and that there is nothing more lively than its nature when it is in movement.

The night in which only the eyes of cats are seen, cats that adapt to the shape of the container that hosts them, as if they were liquid animals. Curious right?

The cat means play and mischief. It can't be easy to win his friendship. Perhaps the cat considers people who show they deserve this honor to be friends, it seems like a noble animal and therefore will never be a slave to its owner and would always remind him that he is as important as him.

The cat seems to be the embodiment of a soft, silky thing, devoid of any roughness, except perhaps that of its whiskers or its nails. He seems like a dreamer. He seems to think: "Sleep and let sleep."

It would give me a thrill to observe a cat intent on observing something that I cannot see, for example at night.

Cats seem to have a perfect life: they receive cuddles whenever they want, they sleep twenty-four hours a day, they hate whoever they want, when they gain weight they seem more beautiful.

No, I don't own a cat, but I stopped to observe it for a long time, through this drawing, through its eyes and his gaze.

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