At The Skin of Time
In the shadows and backstages of meeting places, in the spartan decor of run-down hotels, there is a resistance to the tyranny of sunlights and the communicants’ predatory smiles. / In the abstraction of dissolute nights, shards of infinity save us from the turpitudes of the day. We are with Peter Waterschoot, romantic voyager and inventor of heterotopias, navigating inbetween Ostend, Venice, Calais, Osaka, Hamburg, Cologne, Brussels, Istanbul; places where life has not yet been entirely brought under control. / We are passengers in a lucid dream, a cosa mentale inviting us into abandonment and a heightened state of mind.