Rush Hour

We are in a hurry. We are forced to hurry. Isolated by our own bounderies carried like a cross, we enter in an adventure every morning, a whirlpool which takes us over the day, in sometimes murky waters, sometimes clean. From the early hours of the morning, with the plan of the day in mind or maybe on a piece of paper or the newer ultrasofisticate devices, we launch ourselves in the apparently known daily schedule, full of uncertainty and unexpected situations that require solutions on the moment, almost instinctive. We walk the line. But with this isolation we've lost our guardian angels... Things succed like the surrealistic cinematographic frames, unconsciously linked to one another and perceived as a day in the life. Repetitive. Why we hurry? Where do we have to go go? Did we not have enough time?. . . In a day of our life, as well as a long exposure, time let visual memory footprints, proportional to their persistence in mind and soul. We are the ones that determine the framework, the subject, the standpoint, the shutter speed and the depth of field. We take the shot; it's up to us what we choose to keep alive in memory. With each new day, with each new entry in the Vortex, we have the freedom to choose what is important to us. And maybe the best way to do this is to remember to be kids. Yes, the little ones that pass near us and we only get a glimpse of them, even thouth they cry out loud to make us aware. To brake boundaries and walk out the line. To not hide ourselves. To play. To feel free.