Antoni Llena is one of the great living Catalan artists. Not many people know him. They will. His ephemeral and subtle art will endure. One day he will be immensely famous. Young artists will adopt him and go to New York to admire his works at the MoMA. In time, and in the face of his heavenly shiver, people will take photographs at the foot of the human towers in Plaça Sant Miquel or the David and Goliath from the Olympic Village. At home, children will make origami, imitating their creations using recycled paper and recycled materials. The time will come when everyone can be an artist, thanks to their shy and quiet revolution –a word he does not like–, thanks to his search for eternity in fleetingness. Smoke Memories (L'Avenç) finally casts the mystery of his incredibly circular life to rest. That of a shy boy born in Barcelona's Eixample district in 1942, who, still a teenager, unsure of himself and with only one faithful friend also named Antonio, decided to withdraw from the world and become a monk. This life apart, sometimes in the 14th century, has marked his anachronistic modernity, his aesthetic delirium. Always a little on the fringes, beyond or beyond. Even as a child, with the other Antoni, they didn't play soccer: they defended themselves from the dullness by fantasizing, inventing fabrications. They've done so all their lives.