''When i was very little I lived in the mountains, and in the midst of those big mountains the problem of intelligence didn't seem matter. I those fantastic early childhood years in forest of towering spruce and larch with grayish beard lichen hanging from them, looking for blueberries and cranberries and yellow and brown mushrooms that grew on the ground or were hidden beneath the moss and mildewed layers of fallen pine needles- the detritus of countless rainy autums... The world was made up of animals, mountains, butterflies, birds, clouds, lakes, rocks and flowers, and every single thing had its own colour; every single thing stood out because of its colour; every single thing was what it was, with its particular colour.''    Ettore Sottsass