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Dominique Lécorché



Window on the street …

This passer-by, who is he? Towards what end is he hastening?

Hidden vision, stolen vision.

Street on window …

What is behind it? What dramas or what joys?

Inquisitive vision without answer.

The window cannot tell what it saw.

At best she is an expressive witness.

But of what ?

Then the imagination is let loose, crazy scenarios are formed.

Fix the memory to continue to titillate the stranger.

I have a thing for windows and the stories they spark.

Imagining the life, the lives they have seen pass by, imperturbable, sometimes generates a fairy tale, other times of Kafka.

Dominique Lécorché

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