“
Reality, that thing that should be written in quotation marks…”
Vladimir Nabokov
Closed at home, through the virtual world we “discover” other lives, other times, other places. And when we go out, we keep looking for more always through that mesmerizing and all-powerful little screen.
Replaced by an application, we can no longer see how many lives there are around us. We prefer a hypothetical reality, where we can remain passive, packaged and ready to be self-consumed, we continually border on others, never caring about them or asking who they are, what they do – where - when - why. A bigbrother who observes and analyzes us, mute, hidden.
Architectures that are foreign to us even if we pass by them every day, knowing only one face, and without perceiving their meaning, beauty or even the obscenity of existing in that place, the sense of existence.
Layers of reality that intersect, easily interchangeable, grazed and never penetrated in depth, without curiosity, the desire to understand their meaning, never defined or decisive.
Reflections, transparencies, layers, shadows, different planes, surfaces that overlap and become limits in a flattened system, out of focus and no longer fantasies that made us a unique and curious cosmos.
The others are invisible and at the same time they do not perceive us, breaking the indissoluble bond that binds the observer to the observed.
