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In a city. Mainly at night. A city where a tree casts a haunting shadow on the entrance of a house. Where we hear the echo of words spoken by human figures projected on movie screens. Words that have become incomprehensible. Hovering over our heads. Like a paper boat attempting to escape from a suffocating urban landscape. A city taking on its meaning from two fallen oranges on the ground only a minute before being crashed by an unsuspecting passer-by. From a simple garden hose posing as a serpent. From a pair of eyes that appear before me, here and there, and enigmatically follow my course. A mysterious world, an imaginary city consisting of moments, which is unpredictably transformed by colour and shadows before my eyes. Consisting of facts, of elements affirming their presence through posters, prints and screens. Like symbols, assumptions, dissimulations, insinuations. Just a city. This one or that one.

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