Justine Georget: Do you see my silent tears drying up the streets?

In the noise of the cities, silences tell of the fragility of beings lost between toil and melancholy of the soul. Do you see their tears flowing imperceptibly into the wrinkles and the asphalt of smoking sidewalks ? Are cities drinking away their torments ?

There are legion of them struggling in these tumults, exorcising their pain, losing their vital breath in the face of so many inner experiences of dryness. They remain gray. They are witnesses of urban ages, of screaming metropolises. Here, one drowns without water, another writes without ink, another calls without a cry. A last one adds a little water to his wine or soup. Only their tears flow from invisible wounds. They call their lost shadows. Nothing escapes their eyes, so they repair their wounds with magic drops.

Sadness is read to the infinity of a city that no longer mends silent agonies, so alone as before, they cry out with tears that dry up the cobblestones.