Ken's diary - Invitation to the dream journey with Ken Okada
That night, it's raining. Paris does not want to be the city of light.
Passers-by hurry, head bent under a folded newspaper.
They hurry, slow down and stop. The light of Paris is there, captured, as in the back of a transparent garment.
It begins with the facade, pure and lunar halo in the shadow of the Rue de la Chaise.
It continues with the showcase, which reveals as much as it masks,
and sucks in a white spiral.
And then in it.
The music of the cello flies from its source, alive and invisible.
The guests move to change their point of view, in this place where the landmarks disappear.
They came for the inauguration of a shop, they stay for the magic of the decor.
They are amazed, they share, languages are loosened.
Am I safe from the wing of a swan? In a cave of frost?
In the hollow of an unknown tree? In the lining of a cloudy cloak?
In this box that looks like them, the shirts stop being clothes.
They emit messages, a light that everyone will carry with them when they leave.
Tonight, it's raining. The guests do not care.
Text: Catherine Rosane