Promenade Work brings moments of beauty. Time comes to a standstill, is forgotten and lost. The world vanishes and then reappears, transformed. Making things that release images, groping at beauty, seeking pleasures. Against the imprecision of words the clarity of images sheds light. Sanding, painting, sanding, painting again Layers, images that hide, Fitful restlessness, stillness. The tedious becomes meaningful, patience, following the path, skirting the creak, a reflection of sky, the air. Take your eyes on an outing, thinking by looking. Sentenced to myself, I dream: another place, another time, another life, architectonic wakefulness, collapses. Blocked in the text, sirens and car horns. I turn away, go out for a walk. Walking, getting carried away. Promenade. Irene Banchero, August 2016.