The Shards of the Past

The gaze gets lost in this tormented surface, where the sheen of an old mirror fades to make way for shadow. Through the sharp fissures that sweep across the glass, a geometry of chaos takes shape. On the right, a warm and striped light invites itself like a distant memory, projecting the shadow of a blind or a grille onto the oxidized wall. On the left, a rawer clarity, almost spectral, seems to open a door to an undefined elsewhere. Between these two worlds, black dominates, deep and textured, speckled with silver dust and stains of time. It is no longer an object that reflects reality, but a fragment of memory that only shows pieces of solitude and stray shards of light.