Maybe it’s just another place…
Without imposing… the only desire is to let yourself be… oblivious… to be noticed and lead.
Deceiving his own eyes… the place proves to be a mismatch plans, such as an image that is diffused.
Shadows… pictures… forms that demarcate… mismatched with a light that defines each silhouette… every step that runs through the corners, an insatiable expectation… to find something else.
Here no one sleeps… no lies… looking up one lives and awakens to a reality of provocations… and contrasts.
Edges… angles and corners straight… that not found and intersect with diagonals, guiding the eye… reduced to its simplest expression polygons, cubes and spheres, which sometimes distort and move at the speed of a gesture… a synchronized risk in the explosion of an idea.
Closed forms in themselves, prisoners of their own existence, are exposed, exerting a complicity on who observes them and tries to undress… making mere witness, one of the protagonists of provocation… getting involved in a complex duality of love and hatred.
I hold his gaze… uphold the breath… and evaluate.
Is it this the best option?… Is it that looking and sometimes you going next…
The detail… touch… makes a difference, but will…
Maybe it’s just another place…
