A new exhibition of the slightly darker kind
It must have been the grey winter days.
Last December when the world was on holiday, I was out in the streets. Winter wasn't sure whether it's the right time for it to come - and so the weather was dull, dark, depressing. Christmas was over, and in the hiatus between the old and the new, there is this void that it's hard to fill.
It must have been the grey winter days. The ones that end too soon. The ones that you wish stayed longer, were brighter, were happier. Like dreams. This documentary is a silent series about broken dreams, changed paths, things that turned out different than they were intended to.
On grey streets you see differently. As I walked the streets in dark days, I noticed many closed shops, which stood on the pavement - sad, deserted. Once they must have been filled with life, hope and dreams. I thought of the opening day of each shop - the owners enthusiastic about their new adventure, following their bright dreams, looking into a future obscured from their sight.
It's that future now, and all we - the futurists - now see are empty spaces. Old shops closed, old dreams gone by.
Some of these enterprises might have moved on, to better locations. Others might have just closed down. Behind every shop there is a human. Where is that person now? What happened to the dream? Is he or she following a new dram? Or did that person make a fortune is now sipping a cold drink on an idyllic beach? Leaving behind the carcass of what used to be a shop?
Just by looking at these places, we don't know the real story behind them.
I tried calling some numbers, where I could find them. "The number you have dialed is not available." Gone. Like the dream?