Shadows, those dark shapes we create as a replica of ourselves, a phantasmagoria, the dark side of our existence. They invade the streets with their silence and move with the pace of the crowd as they journey to a destination the observer fails to envision.
The street signs are the sentinels giving silent instructions which are ignored. The shadows populate a world that through the visual cacophony point to the sound of silence.
The army of shadows march on during the journey of the clock of time. It awakes in the early morning and dies in resplendent light of the setting sun.
Then a new phantasmagoria appears as one by one new lights populate the street. A kaleidoscope of colours compete with the shadows of the night.
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