old ladies are looking to the streets from their doors, children who do not play, retired resting, the unemployed, there is everything. They are public stage sporadic ground or concrete. Look first vacuum with static eyes, Through the gates, doors open, sitting in the galleries, through the bars of their windows or from the railings of the balconies, looking always empty. The sound of a passing car will accelerate your heartbeat. They clench their hands, excited. And when a car is not a passer, but a sound anticipated the excitement of the moment following. Shooting shows that last as long in the street and the depth of view of those who sit to watch.
and stare and turn your neck forward actor's turn. Sad look with interest, expected nothing. Sometimes, when the observed object me, a gift few seconds of eye contact, a moment of recognition for their voyeuristic presence. Here we are, watching while I walk and they support your arms on the fence or in the bars or rails. So we are, until I get tired, or out of my sight, and direct gaze to the front and the presence of the woman, or children, or retired, or unemployed is, again, irrelevant my life and I follow my path and I am more like a fleeting day.
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