liiek

In the artist's words:

If "Living in a Fiction" were a walk, it would begin with a slight forward bend, a brisk stride, your gaze focused on the two or three meters in front of you. That's how you move through the city when you're in a hurry and don't want to fight. Was that a stumble? No, that was a lunge, a pas de bourrée of sound. Loosened up like this, we grooved, but only as far as the next street corner. Now endurance running, not for training but for pleasure. The gaze becomes horizontal. Was that a smile?