I used to have a dream, when I was a child, in which a strong dry essence that was also a little dusty took possession of my nose and grew in a geometric progression until it had taken over my other senses with the same rhythm.
It was a very particular smell, one that I still sense sometimes when I walk through the city, and that sends me straight back to my dream again.
In that dream, I remember geometric figures that got bigger, a sound that got louder, and the smell, which filled my nostrils, totally occupying my senses. The smell imposed itself on the other senses, so I still remember it to this day. When I was asked about a smell this piece might suggest, I remembered that smell again, even though the production of this piece produced totally different smells … the wood as it was being cut, the latex on the freshly painted wall, the smell of that same wall …
The smell of the wall must have some of the dry essence of that dream .…
MARCIUS GALAN
