It is autumn. As the light diminishes, silence increases. The elongated shadows freeze the bodies enclosed in the frame, turning memories into reliefs, solidifying blurred forms into bark—they echo with emptiness, giving free rein to the imagination to fill them.
The changing weather reframes our world, the melancholy of the gloomy weather barely alleviated by the neon lights of our technologized environment.
We retreat into this fog. We turn inward and look outward, staring out the window, while beyond it, the November landscape also turns to winter.