"... If I simply sought to remember, and have these memories duplicate the days I have lived, I would not, sick as I am, take the trouble to write. But this progression of thought, I did not want to analyse it abstractly but rather recreate it and give it life."
Marcel Proust
I pick up my first "Diary" and revisit my first colours.
After some time I try to go back and return to the colours already experienced.
I get close to something already experienced in the past once more and, absorbing it, I extract something new.
The flow of time is inverted. I return to my own time, to my own colour, to my own substance, to my own existence. I take another look at myself, I rewrite, start over, rediscover myself. Time goes back on itself. The experience is presented anew, is transformed and renewed. It is not about working on the memory but on something that is back in front of me.
(Written in 2014)
