the journey is always an escape
the unquenchable anticipation of revelations
it remains vague and burning
the seducing foreshadow
similar to those first sun rays setting forth the new day  
the new day elsewhere …

the brain worn down by the hours
spent in non-place of the higher altitudes
yet it is galvanised to the highest degree
cityscape is irregular like blinking
noises sifting through the glass
the roller-coasting spell of somnambulism

passing through an extensive time wrap
when the narrowing stretch of the road lies in front
it’s not so much about the space you’re in
as much as it is about time
and the state of the inexplicable condensation
but first is always time
the marker of separation
the countdown non-stop
when is the next train
the next bus
the next boat ride

the itch and the anxiety
beyond the framework of the words
missing the connection is unwanted
but it also has the premise of spontaneity
contradicting forces

picking the dissonances
living in the interstice

falling out of the void and back in
those acts of the prolonged suspension
release much more than you can grasp
tuning into the consciousness of the passers by
away from the state of overstimulation
the sense of familiarity and unknownness
you memorise the places visited
by the most elusive of signifiers: 
the smell
a shimmering ripple
twilight fog
voice tonalities  

the score made of silence
a brief intermission
holding breath
the carry on luggage of all the undying recollections
the perpetual spiral of returns and detours
just like swimming to the non-existent horizon 

you pay attention to the gestures
the language you crave to master
‘silent, swift, elegant, 
their actions are eminently transitive, operative
tinged with that mixture of strength and subtlety’
 - Roland Barthes says in ‘Empire of Signs’

the inscriptions stuck in your mind
but they never to be understood
is it about understanding
or is it about feeling?

traveling to an island, or archipelago
is not like travelling across a continent
the possibility of a fictional sanctuary
the blizzard of thoughts
they are morphing one into another
wayward, erratic, uncatchable
and saturating the monotony of the landscape 

the point of here and now
written with a single stroke of the brush
but what remains
is a distorted kaleidoscope of flickers
to bridge the gap between 

or to dislocate even further apart
are you're looking out
or looking in
how much of what surrounds you
is the reflection of the alternate scenario
unfolding elsewhere
by drifting away
coming closer to the self
but are you close enough
to not be afraid of...

every moment urges
to keep on reinventing your vision
re-adjusting your senses
even if you stand still
with your eyes closed
on the peach-tinted seashore
under the cobalt sky

the form-defying temple for contemplation
that rare morning without a drop of rain
the air is translucent and hot
transmitting the echo of notifications
the counter-current red dots

the failure and the grandeur
of the artificial environment
the vacuum of the colourless shields around
fluctuations, undetermined coordinates
the headlines exempt of all meaning
and the decisions unlikely to be reversed

‘a repetition without origin
an event without cause
a memory without person
a language without moorings’

it's all about proportions
the gaze moves across diagonals
and there is a cloud of rain above you, again
the shock of the camera shutter
fracturing the current of time
as quick as the swirling dragonfly
the ceasefire. 

(end): what is in that one image you would like to keep?

Click here to read more about the project and watch the film