Giuseppe Bergman. Volume 2. African Adventures

I want to warn readers right away: nothing that I write or draw should be taken too seriously and all the more so accepted as truth.
Federico Fellini once confessed to me that each time he started working on a new film, he always intended to shoot a comedy (he considers comedic actors to be benefactors of humanity), but in the end, it always turned into a drama. I, for my part (I hope you forgive my audacity of comparison) confessed to him that in my case, everything is the opposite: I always think of a serious story with deep philosophical content, but in the process of working, all my good intentions scatter like breadcrumbs and are lost without a trace among images of pretty girls (in my view, they are the benefactors of humanity) and deliberately unserious situations.
In the second story about Giuseppe Bergman, I intended to touch on such topics as the necessity of using renewable (in particular, solar) energy, the monstrous disproportion in the distribution of the planet's natural wealth, stereotypes and prejudices regarding outsiders, and the danger that in the near future the third world will knock on our doors to present us with a bill for all the atrocities committed against it.
I intended to analyze the relationship between comics and figurative art, test the hypothesis about the possibility of composing poems in the form of comics, explore the rhythmic connections between panels; entrust the reader with the role of the main character, endowing them with the right to independently create the plot and characters and confronting them with a rebellion of characters against the author... to experiment with changing graphic styles to include other stories in the main story, which would be perceived as a grand adventure epic as a whole. In short, I had an ambitious intention to create an exciting masterpiece.
But then, a small group of naked girls asserted their right to exist, who, looking displeased, settled around the page and began to snatch the pencil from my hands and hide my eraser, so I could not resist the temptation and—farewell, good intentions!