For how long can we postpone the inevitability of autumn - and do we really want that?
The physical leaves, the metaphysical leaves.
Let’s see what it is and nothing else:
us balancing between the seasons and reasons, and for once, not being afraid to fall.
Fall then fly, you say - now that is an idea: defy gravity and everything you’ve learnt; we’re in front of this white, clean, shiny canvass, we’re inventing the colours we’ll bury our soul into. No shame, and no express checkout.
As if these minutes are made of elastic, we pull them in and out, and burn the margins of time, painting our faces with its ash, like warriors.
I hold a camera but you held my hand.
I lift the sky to find the sun - but you are not afraid to look at it.
You show me those true colours that form when summer and autumn hold us still, in a painful, invisible embrace.
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Model: Chris Canuel - Media City, UK
