Silences
A cemetery. A September day. Graves. All covered in thick plastic film. To protect them. A strange feeling. Protect them from what? Aren’t those who rest beneath them already protected by the marble, the stone? Why this need for overprotection? This impression of wanting to protect objects from their own death leaves me thoughtful.
Contemplation before this strange and imposing spectacle. The silence of the place, the respect due to its inhabitants, provokes many questions in me about life, death, and the cruel disappearance of my loved ones…
Drawn by this strange atmosphere that both attracts and disorients me, I have returned several times to this place thus adorned, which invites all sorts of reflections, questions about the fate of people and things. And I meditate. On the futility of these ornaments, which will eventually disappear anyway, despite the care lavished upon them. Perhaps also on the futility of life, despite this vision of unsettling poetry, full of tenderness that invites a thousand thoughts. Nostalgia too, who knows, before these hidden, protected ornaments…
I am remembering…
