Everything is suspended ...

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Objects, dreams, ideas and ourselves, people.

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The bond that binds them has only a chimerical stability.

 

As if our destiny was looping ... suspended objects waiting for

others suspended in an eternal repetition.

 

We live this expectation, the expectation of life or that of deliverance.

 

The embarrassment is the persistence of the waiting which seems infinite,

all that happens is a new illusion.

 

I draw time through the rain.

 

Rain is the most archaic symbol of waiting in ancient myths.

 

I stop while the rain touches the earth, at the moment of the beginning

of life or its suffocation, at the moment of its manifestations at the edge

of circles in perpetual motion.

 

At the top, the fog is standing, as far away as it is, it sends raindrops

to the earth and looks silently at their fate.

 

I draw the suspended raindrop and the echo of its fall and I do not

know which of the two is real or illusion.