Which new horizons do arise when fashion leaves its comfort zone? What life do clothes get when they stop walking down the catwalk? What kind of stories can they draw in the space of existence? What happens to them when the runway spotlights fade out? These are the questions that come to my mind in a present that is uncertain, but pregnant with premonitions. Precious and crucial questions, urging me to reframe the creative horizons of my work and to reconfigure the meaning of my doing. Above all, they push me towards a radical experimentation able to pursue new languages and uncommon expressive platforms.

Following this impetus, I decided to make an episodic film. It was a reckless leap for me, though necessary. Because I needed a vehicle to inject myself into life, to depict it from the inside. A life that apparently flows in a trivial way but, unfolding, it reveals unexpected epiphanies. A stream of tiny accidental events and delicate relations that challenge the sense-making and give shape to our being. A constellation of details where the infinitely small, the shy eyes that lower, the unsaid word and the swish of a dress dance together to be saved.

To get into this life, to succeed in telling it through and through, I needed a magnifying glass to extol its movements and silences. I needed an extreme narrative dilation to sing everydayness and its magic footprints. I also needed a suspended time to spy on its flow. The idea of different episodes fitted my needs: windows from which I could look over the never drowsy miracle of our breaths.

To create a more accurate observation, I looked and longed for a travel companion, Gus. We chose each other for the affinity of our gaze, for the care we both take in creating inclusive narrations. What I love about Gus is his rebel and brazen attitude, his ability to portray the road and the side, his transversal visionaries and his delicacy. Together we tried to write an ode to that mysterious organism that life is: a sacred enigma that connects the impalpable with the visible, a trembling becoming made of a little nothing that rages.

To stick to the web of fortuities that pollinate this trembling becoming, we decided to take a further risk. We tried to dissolve the rhetorical illusion that each story is necessarily made of a signifying and oriented sequence of events. In our film, there is no story which is anchored to a readable direction. The plot is just an accident that breaks the linear and progressive character of time. It’s the overture of something that never ended.

Little events, considered ordinary and common, blend together and give the opportunity to awaken a world of interpretative possibilities for those who observe. Little wild detonations of sense. In this respect, the film does not want to assert. There is no proclamation. No declaration. But evocation instead. There is no such thing as an ultimate and final meaning, because that would end up in reducing the sensible to the intelligible. It would mean to betray that marvelous and endless overabundance of sense that we all carry along with us. After all, that is where the enchantment of life lies: in the infinite variety of its possibilities.