We turn, I turn on myself, and we don’t look at anything, I let myself be told.
How much time is missing between each frame? What is its nature? Is it this missing time that gives us the illusion of movement, that impels the energy of the gaze from one image to the next, in response to the void that separates them, that creates the desire for the next image? What is the smallest unit of time we can perceive? Flashes? Side by side, they give us a sensation of immobility, yet movement is there, invisible and powerful, always. So many differences between each of these seemingly similar images! Everything could have changed from one to the next, from one moment to the next. Everything.
