Those lights. You’ve crossed those lights countless time, following the same path, numb, to some extend. Countless time you though that maybe it’d be pretty, always poking some parts of your visuel memory. Those lights in the night. Hazy. Ghosty.
Ever since i’ve seen them, it reminds me of Nighthawks, by Hopper. That deep pit of loneliness. The colours from Blade Runner too. Those neons, almost flickering – if not – giving an artificiality to the landscape. The ruins from the 60′, drowning in the dark, and the modern Calatrava station appealing in the background, as a call. Moving forward in time, in style, between the soon to be demolished and the (almost) brand new. Somehow typical of Belgian cities though, that never-ending patchwork.
Somehow, seemed fit for the first, a path, a journey. 364 more. Between lights and shadows, days and nights, colours and greys.
In the (vain but ….) hope that maybe for once, each will be filled. With the constrain to not dig in archives to fill the (potential) holes.