“A search for the wellspring of the imagination, the unconscious from which images bubble up and fade, where nothing is lost, nothing forgotten and nothing ever past”.
Régis Durand
There are interstices in time, moments when time is suspended, lasting only a few seconds; each one a fragment of eternity. Such is the calm before the storm : the tension is palpable- in the air, in our faces, in objects themselves : as if at that moment the whole delicate poise of the world was in jeopardy.