by Luis MACIAS
& Adriana VILA
color / sound / 40' 00
“The storm exhales through us and the bare branches (each and every one), so that we can borrow its pure and permanent virtue. We wonder if the cities have heard the simplicity of its story, despite its loneliness. However, they have not been purged in the flow out the night stream. Now they crawl away. Perishable, late and far, the earth does not argue. It has no arguments. In discord, hopefully, we discover its answer, as refugees in the illusory trap of illusion.
For now, they say, the storm has passed. But we do not believe it“