Adventure is hung around the neck of its rival
love whose gaze finds or loses itself
in place of deserted or populated eyes.
All the adventures of the human face
cries without echoes signs of the dead time outside memory,
so many beautiful faces so beautiful
that tears hide themselves
so many eyes as sure of their night
as lovers dying together
so many kisses under rock and so much water without clouds
apparitions spill from eternal absences
everything was worthy of love
treasures are walls and their shadows are blind
and love is in the world so that the world may forget.
Paul Éluard

Knowledge Forbidden I

They left, but in these places those who stay try/are trying to keep up. This trace vanishes in turn, washed, crossed off by time, wearing out under the surface.
Seizing the moment when the missing fade again, we regain their image, understand their fragility and bring them back to us. And here they reappear, benevolent, restless, serene or disturbing.
Going back up the time line, we place ourselves outside of time and bring the past back in the visible space, right here. Feelings can then mingle, theirs, ours, in a moving dialogue.
Work in progress.