How many words have we left behind our tongues, or are crowding our vocal cords, how many words do we read daily in the news, on social networks, on WhatsApp, in the newspapers. A whole web of concepts, messages, impressions, news, anecdotes, feelings that overwhelm us.
Everyday expression is not enough to say what we crave, what we feel, what we think, what we demand from inside the confinement. They are linguistic and emotional signs that remain entangled inside the home between the chairs, the table, the curtains, or they vanish in the walls of confinement, in monotony or functional pragmatism, or in the infinite coordinates of the Internet.
My wings are tied, all the urban projects I had have vanished, impossible to do anything today, in the city in the midst of the state of exception and its punishments. However, I cannot remain undaunted in the face of overwhelming reality. How to remain silent in this event, in the ups and downs of an invasive virus, the deaths, the healing, the pain, the injustices, the hopes...?
I imagine countless things, dozens of ideas to do something, to demonstrate and not let this pandemic and its restrictive measures make me succumb to silence. Nothing seems enough, nothing calms my contained pulsation, my need for expression.
I want the emotions to come out, the words to jump out of their intimate context, to adhere with chalk to the exterior bricks of the building, a blackboard,... so many voices that expand on its reddish surface.
The facade of the house I live in is now an exposed leaf, an architectural poem, a fabric of strokes, a prayer, a cry...