The videos that accompany my series set a course, that of rejecting the present, the course that protects us from our worst fears and makes us follow in the footprints of an uncertain order.
My character carries out disciplined crossings, without needing to pause, without intending to penetrate the world, deliberately omitting crossroads and options.
They are obsessive hikes, similar to those of Harry Dean Stanton in Paris, Texas, or those of Burt Lancaster in The Swimmer. Animals without a way out, social corpses stripped of any prestige that run away from the need for action, thanks to an excessive task that places them far from turbulence.
These strolls always border the danger zone, the Ocean, the Desert or, the Big City or the wild Forest, that no-man’s-land where a naked, persistent immersion would lead to death.
The perimeter of Rangali Island can be walked in half an hour, like most of the Maldive Islands, like the Mopani Rest Camp, like the Gallery Streets of Chelsea.
