We don’t always take time to see them, yet, if you think about it, there are many in our streets.
Often they challenge me, so I immortalize them and gather them together.
Now useless and anonymous, you can sometimes crossed them at the corner of a street, at the turn of a road, in a dark alley or at the bus stop. Still dashing, at least in appearance, often decrepit, hollowed out or with a broken foot, these orphans, far from their primary environment, keep the imprint of a passage, a memory. Now they seem lost, at the crossroads of their lives: what does fate have in store for them? A new life perhaps, if a good soul takes care of them? Or the dump?
They, whose seat was for a long time in close company, are these wandering chairs, lonely, perhaps once again wild, victim of a brutal and without witness abandonment.
