- THE BELLS OF THE JUNE MOON SPACE -

Paradise Found?

PROJECT 
OVERVIEW //

THE BELLS OF THE JUNE MOON SPACE is rather unusual, mainly because of what led to its creation. Its production was also very spontaneous. A single pencil stroke was enough to transcribe those six hours under a sky among a thousand others.

We were outside, in the hole we had dug beforehand, with a fire burning. I lay down on a giant wool blanket. There is something Alice in Wonderland about it. The embers burst, the fire envelops us, despite the heat already present. That evening, everything seems superfluous to me, nothing makes sense. Even less so the speeches. A disease peculiar to contemporary man. Excel spreadsheets make me want to vomit, my colleagues at the office disgust me. They are empty, empty like the canvas of a contemporary artist who has vomited two drops of Indian ink onto Chinese paper in order to express emptiness. Fuck you!

I lay down on the ground and looked up at the sky. I stared at it for hours. Just like when we look at a quartz clock, if we look closely, the minute hand moves every second. That's what I'm talking about in the 9:28. The sky was moving, the colours were beautiful. I don't think I'd seen anything like it since my last night flights at 9842 ft, one last look at the instruments. I remember turning off all the communication instruments on board. Then, in the dark of night, the control instruments disappeared, the wheels touched the ground, and I returned from a moment stolen from reason. What if only those moments stolen from reason really mattered?

I fell asleep at dawn. The air was mild. I miss my childhood, or rather, what was connected to it. It's almost standard to have these kinds of emotions, but on a few occasions I experienced a sense of timeless innocence, away from people, without a telephone. Except at the barracks and at school. For the rest, it still stank of petrol when someone started a car, a plane, an old buggy or anything that ran on petrol.