If we would consider ehizalerroak from a productive logic, we could think of it as an uncompleted compilation of failures. Maybe because we´ve been following inexistent coordinates, perhaps because of secretly enjoying the odd pleasure of foolish, barren search, or because our inability to link together a logic sequence of events (locate, enclose, point and shoot prey). Strangely, or perversely enough, the fact of knowing that our target is out of reach only makes the desire grow. Constantly.
Sparkles, smoke, paint.
Photos, annotations, frames.
Dots, and lines, and stains.
Does accumulation of attempts bring closer to succes, or wisdom? Detours leading to analogies, trials with no convincing result, a glimpse of a possibility. In our search, we part alone, yet we rarely come back empty handed. We may not get the trophy, but a hint, a smell, a footprint. In the distance, we look into the opacity. There must be a way to get into the darkness, to get the prey without moving from our spot. Because everytime we do, our objective is not there anymore, where we had first seen it.