Wandering forever

I am forever wandering,
ghosts, from the ocean to the theatre.
Sailors and their boats with petrified sails.
Stagehands with creaking hangers.
Actresses, actors, artists of all kinds in their costumes of light,
a suspended moment where the present is consumed by a breath, a tremor, a desire to exist despite everything. Only bodies, voices, a
flickering light and a place that is slowly dying
.
I follow the gaze of cinema on an ocean of theatre that is fading away.
The walls and floorboards creak,
but the faces still glow.
In the dust and smoke, gestures seek each other out,
presences are invented.
The living become ghosts, and the
ghosts come back to life for the duration of a shot.
Here, cinema becomes the witness
to a disappearance, a mirror held up to theatre—
a ghost film about the persistence of
creation and the necessity of the collective.