The indolence of such imagery transforms the din of the city into a haven of exacerbated tranquility. Gone are the sounds of street bustle. Sidewalks lay bare, displaying a strange cleanliness void of turmoil, where the city becomes a collection of objects arranged like a big puzzle, reflecting a desire to erase the memory of original sin and recover, in the timeless city, the perfect past of a lost paradise.

This image is a metaphysical vision of chilling precision. Places so ordinary that they become unrecognizable and seem made up. It is a postmodern poem in honor of the melancholy that strips, peels and tears cities into pieces. The calm hides within the chaos, within the desolation hidden in the mechanical ebb and flow of the crowd, the sense of peace one desires upon the realization of one’s own fragility in an environment where aggression leaps out at the slightest provocation.

The frozen film sequence that deliberately denies that which is organic and to a large extent the creation of explicit metaphors. This is the eternal question of art: omitting something only to redefine it.

A circular movement around our worries that takes us right back to them once the circle is completed. Within our urban travails, where stress is prevalent, a similar movement occurs: alongside our hurried notion of time, under a bristling epidermis, we experience an unbridled desire for stillness. The passing of time, of life, is inexorable. And that notion of timelessness gives way to a troubling awareness of our ephemeral state and its archetypal manifestations: incessant waves of troubled new generations attempting to overcome uncertainty, the relentless blossoming of new ideas and new notions about halting the march of history, the desire to realize utopias through perfect lives, steadfast and uncompromising. Man reasons and death intrudes upon his aspiration to comprehend eternity.