In another place, in another way of measuring time… the woman rested, not feeling enslaved to anything, not even to that specific moment, as if that instant perhaps had a physical dimension. That beach, that little corner of the Earth had no temporary structure, neither measurable nor tangible. No one could catch the woman, subject to the conditioning of a “here and now”. There was no now, but the beach did exist.

Every day we feel how the passage of time is taking its toll on our body, on our power, on our capacity, not only physical but also intellectual, and that can sometimes be depressing to a certain extent, and on that occasion, she managed to sit still, contented, lying in a very special place where she is not reached by any of these coordinates that condition people so much.

It could be incredible, but she managed time as she wanted, since it seemed that it hadn’t got a physical dimension and she grabs it with her hands and stopped it or simply put it under the sand, symbolized in a clock, a structure capable of measuring something that really seems tangible. Out of sight, she stayed in a stunning mimicry with the landscape, with the rocks where it would seem that everything is made of the same material, as if it were been taken from the landscape and there, she looked at you, enjoying that moment and perhaps thinking that maybe she would manage to stay there forever or escape from this day to day, measured and made for people, for all of us.

Day-to-day tasks that can be magnificent, can be an opportunity to make great achievements, shine, stand out, but always subject to that physical dimension of time that destroys us so much or undermines us. The ideal would be to find a place where there is only “a so-called space” with a beach and a short moment where her thoughts, sweetness, sleep, laughter, waiting for love and many other good sensations could pass.

Who grabs time with his hand and stops it or manages it in his favour?

In truth we cannot, but that is what Art is for… to make something that can remain in some way: timeless, stopped and taken out of that inescapable and physical dimension and to which we are subjected. Art is timeless.

She will be resting, smiling, waiting and shining forever at that moment, in that other place and also with the advantage of always looking at the amazing sea.

The moment on the sand is stopped, suspended and will shine forever as a forgotten moment.