Black dust

A break in the light, an assumed dust, a slightly perceptible stillness, it is the blaze of a shiver. A second of winter sunshine in the uselessness of the moment, the ostentatious undressing in its mirrored eyes, and agitation sets in without asking permission. A visual deportation takes its place in the clarity of a bright everyday life. In the sleepless night, a vision of anguish strives to tick off the timeless seconds, head heavy in the pillow. Freedom stares at the bottom of the garden, predestined for the butterfly's adventure, no one sees it free, it is not so.
France 2022.
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