We’re living submerged in a world of plastic: it wraps itself around us, closing us in. It’s a reality with undefined, out-of-focus, torn boundaries

Centuries of progress, lived in the belief that human wellbeing is paramount, whatever the cost, and in the grotesque vision of throwaway culture, are jeopardising the very life of this planet. Our evolutionary metamorphosis has stopped: the primitive being, covered in skins, the archetype of a universe light years from our own lifestyle is ideally catching up with us again, coming full circle

Dressed, not in skins but in plastic, and accompanied by that stubborn survival instinct and our fragilities, faced with our past, we are dismayed to find that we’ve regressed to the starting point, as if thousands of years of development had led to nothing. Alone, with our vulnerabilities and paltry beliefs, like those beings from long ago, confined in our makeshift home, we cling to the force that reassures us most, to the vital warmth of a hypothetical fire, to a light that will be our salvation.

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