Time pursues its tail - and bares its claws whenever you reach out to seize any of its belongings. When you seek to take down from the old shelves those precious things, those toys and games of wood or tin, or painted cloth, toys which were once yours and which you seek - for a moment - to make your own again.

The toy trains are derailed, while an invisible piano undertakes to make the journey on your behalf. The countries through which you pass seem infinitely large through the spectrum of the water bubbles and the glass marbles…
The world spins in a riot of colour and the spinning top points always to the north, that unassailable castle of your childhood years, a castle which still offers you safe haven. The lead soldiers, fresh from their box, are arrayed in new formations. When did it commence, this battle of the imagination? What is sure is that it will never end.

The former general Belissarius now fires his shots from a camera, and new images ignite… The things around follow, shift their place, emerge from their boxes, balance on a tightrope, like desire on the tandem of loves. Who speaks? What fell? One more click and man is again transformed from ponderous accountant to giddy player of games.

The game unwinds its endless streamer, and life, if we want it enough, will follow obediently.

Iulita Iliopoulou