“The light of the night is a revealing glare that vanishes when silence comes and words become ineffective – while the eye forces its look somewhere else, losing itself in distances that it cannot reach.
Work tools register their rest on the room walls and thoughts trip into the weave of their thin shadows.
The night suppresses the idle details of day, as does memory, and that moment is the space for the privilege of an ordinary thought – recollections of a recently concluded present get lost in the echo of images
whispered by the distracted city, almost as if they were the beginning of an unfinished sentence.
They say reality is no more than hidden fiction. The desire to preserve the memories of each experience is a quest for the connection with whatever surrounds us – that gift book we received but never read, a helmet
laid on a shelf, the jacket we only wore once, the bike wheel we haven’t repaired yet, the sealed packages of cleaning products forgotten on a wooden shelf in the corner of the studio…
The fear of loss resembles a passive apnoea that mixes up living the present and projecting a future resolution. But the frenzy delays the action, the anxiety of the finish line eclipses the conquer of waiting.
In the shadow spaces of the room, the objects lose their outlines and impress their stylized traces on the surface, as if they were the reverse side of a fine embroidery. And while the night is patiently waiting to
become day once again, it leaves its place to a gap that turns into a new question.
In that hesitation, everything dissolves and the world lets itself be seen. There’s relief in the white space of waiting.”