Our CLOWN was a strange figure. A cloud lost and in love with a world that was frightened by the complexity of its reality. By watching life pass into fractures and fractals of itself, our CLOWN knew that this world would rip itself into pieces rather than look at the matter that held it together.
Small things count the most, like a smile or a oceanic blue day full of wondering hopes and an ever changing cloud that got lost on its way home but stayed long enough to see a world die which lasts as long as a CLOWN in laughter.
The child who was pondering on our CLOWN dreamt of its laughter till it’s late life, the best description it could compose into linguistic uttering was ‘a river passing through the wind to become a raindrop‘
Our CLOWN went home and our world died shortly after.
Photography: Darius Iromlou