Matza | 3 | Vanishing point
I turn around a line encircling the world and bearing all the fantasy of liberty, always further. A line between sky and earth, between sky and sea, called horizon but when touching the mountains. A line of mysticism, dream and mistakes.
A gathering of separation points, up, down, here, over there. Over there obviously more beautiful.
Freedom is beyond this line, vertically and horizontally. Is it a junction point ?
Is it a moment ? Is it characterized in the time, it is always after, or in the space, it is situated after.
A group of vanishing points, we chase until we end behind ourselves. Looking at the horizon do I look at my back ? This elsewhere is a part of myself I don’t see.
An island is twice enclosed, by the see and by the horizon,. Those who leave here are captives, those who left, outside of the cocoon.
An island as a cocoon.
Do you see your back ?