Passages
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I started
this series in 2024, mainly in Paris, London, and in a few cities in the
United Kingdom where I stayed punctually, in line with "Fragments",
an essay that brought together photos taken during short trips to major cities.
Life is a series of passages, moments of presence, of “That-has-Been”. I try to capture some traces of
impermanence, sometimes symbolic ones, always connected to and reflecting this world.
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How many
trains ran, roared, and rusted off the rails?
How many commuters
Every day
Gave away their dreams, their hopes, their faith
Passing through this absurd Rubicon
Not knowing that even on the darkest Sundays
Light will always break through the track and deploy its wings?
There is a fallen angel under the railway bridge.
How many commuters
Every day
Gave away their dreams, their hopes, their faith
Passing through this absurd Rubicon
Not knowing that even on the darkest Sundays
Light will always break through the track and deploy its wings?
There is a fallen angel under the railway bridge.
Take a road
at random
As long as it doesn't look like anything
Empty of houses, sad crossroads,
Dull and wild grass
Forgotten by the green
Just a passage
Dust blown with dust, left to trucks only
From time to time
Walls, rubbish
Memory of an escape, of an exile
Noise as the only presence
Alternating the movements of light
The sky is too white
Interchange perspectives
So far away
An evasive passer-by
On a bridge
Someone at last?
Our reflections
In the black water of the canals
(Translated from French)
As long as it doesn't look like anything
Empty of houses, sad crossroads,
Dull and wild grass
Forgotten by the green
Just a passage
Dust blown with dust, left to trucks only
From time to time
Walls, rubbish
Memory of an escape, of an exile
Noise as the only presence
Alternating the movements of light
The sky is too white
Interchange perspectives
So far away
An evasive passer-by
On a bridge
Someone at last?
Our reflections
In the black water of the canals
(Translated from French)