What Is Uniblue Do You Have To Pay For It

A block of ice on a mountain of sand

1.  Le réveil en sueur

Un berger, seul comme un chien errant, a perdu un troupeau qu'il a essaimé pour ne pas mourir de faim.  Un gardien qui ne peut plus que s'endormir pour rêver de s'échapper.  Alors, il tourne en rond, n'ayant plus que le soleil qui s'en va à suivre encore.  Devant l'échoppe abondante du marchand d'ananas, un homme passe avec un échelle qu'il ne sait plus où poser pour commencer à gravir une montagne, car elle est désertée de ce qui propose de rompre sa routine.  D'autres, descendent tous day a piece of the arid Sierra, in one life they have not moved a few centimeters. We are like the wind, water and sand, gully principle, wear what we surrounds and actor of the transformation. Metamorphoses, even essential, are a reflection of the time they are given: either the backs or they are the ones we wake with a start.

2. Futile

There is a wall in the middle of a hamada, on the foothills of an erg sterile sand, a wall that surrounds another piece of wilderness just as uneducated. Full-length and full height of the wall are painted the words " Propiedad privada" in black on a white background.

3. Essential

A merchant helium balloon across the street. ; There are hundreds, heart-shaped, hung everywhere, from head to foot. An abundance of crazy colors and shapes, yet he moves with lightness, it is transported by his balls. He floats like a cosmonaut who made the leap moon in the middle of a street in celebration.

4. Instant

While a block of ice melts under the sun of Mexico, a plastic dummy to perfect and takes the throne cum in a perfume brand new to the brand well known in the midst of small shops with curtains rusty iron. Opposite, a florist uses old paint cans to present its blooms smiles. Thirteen of cardboard coffins on their backs pass in the street and make the cut in this mini landscape .

5. The procession transformations

A blank canvas on a banner with a suite passes pious, serious and withdrawn from view. A prostitute in stilettos and fishnet stockings small procession through the spontaneous, she returned from work. Two young men holding hands and looking fondly. I looked up the sky to escape in a dream. I can not make me grow wings to fly, but imagine with these words.

Eric, 01/011, Brussels, BE.

Written in Wiel's during the exhibition Francis Alÿs .
(see video on the site of the artist)

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