We move through life the way we advance in a cave, with a headlamp beaming forward.
As we enter the room of our thirties, we can only see as far as the power of the horizontal light allows it.
We believe the cave to be a limited space, bound by the line where the furthest drops of light touch the nearest lakes or darkness.
Walking on, the perspective from our headlamp moves with us and we find ourselves entering the room of our forties…
With no warning, forgetfulness closes in on us and engulfs all preceding data.
This travelling light beam, year after year, penetrates obscurity and, in the same movement, dries up our memories born in the previous rooms.
The explorer must sometimes scratch the walls around him and move the rocks piled up in a dark corner to allow the ray of light to spread ahead again.
He may be surprised by the fallen rocks in his footsteps as he doubtfully enters a new space.
In their personal caves, each explorer moves ahead one room after the other and tries to cross the mountain which is home to them all.
Once they arrive on the other side,
their soles facing emptiness and eyes pointing to the sun,
Headlamps have become useless.
As far as eyes can see, rivers of light weave and embrace each other.
It just takes one more leap
An answer to the call of stretched out arms.
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