There is the moment captured in the picture and then there is reality. They wear handmade clothes and use natural ways of fishing with help from cormorants. Done with slow movements, almost like a dance, fishing becomes almost a spiritual journey with sunset as a background. It’s all so perfect that you almost believe that’s their way of life, all connected and harmonious. But then, the sound of plastic boats that imitates bamboo strikes you from behind. Sunset is gone and the show is over. It was well played, so the reward should be generous. It was a perfect glimpse of the lost humanity in all of us, of what we didn’t even know we had until it was replaced by plastic and money.
There is the reality and the picture of it. Two parallel worlds. Time stopped for a moment, so people can remember, but no one did. The picture is done, so reality starts again. They all carried on with their lives going home on plastic boats, unimpressed by the music of the bamboo trunks that sang their sad songs, in oblivion. The last dim of the light is gone. Now everyone has gone home. No need to beautify the plasticization of life anymore. No need to pretend we still hear the bamboo singing. The roars of the engines overtook the souls floating on the river, lost.
text: Simina Cernat