There is no better metaphor for the individual and collective human condition than the roads and the act of walking towards who knows where, most of the time turning one’s back on those who remain to watch or ask questions.
Of course the roads may be circular, or straight, or curved and sloping, but the underlying theme that transpires from the images I present here is that the destination is never clear in the consciousness of those who travel them; one proceeds blindly towards nowhere, or at best towards decline, without knowing what is behind the curve or the hill.
Whether it is the sun heading towards a tiring sunset or an elderly couple, a torrent of tourists and a native woman crossing each other, ignoring each other, or a monk descending an endless staircase to the underworld, I would like to convey the idea no one seems to understand where he is going, and above all no one seems to bother asking the question.
One walks leisurely or laboriously in a suspended, slightly surreal atmosphere.
No one has the ability to divine the future, and Cassandra was not too popular and beloved by her fellow citizens, but maybe stopping, sitting on a kerbstone and looking around beyond the immediate would not be such a bad idea.