Near the Village, in Émilie-Gamelin Park, a colorful labyrinth has appeared. I don’t know if the installation is finished or if it was conceived in this way, pure abstract art probably wanting to be a break with the everyday landscape as we often write to explain nothing.
However, the effect is pretty, especially at dusk and the meteorological greyness that has been predicted. A warmly dressed man was hanging around there, as it were, and seemed to be doing well. He went from panel to panel, stayed straight in front of everyone, looked through it, then changed colors. Perhaps he saw fairies and, with eyes wet with happiness, fireworks. The children of a small family also gambled while the parents took pictures of them. Police officers who were not far away had probably cleaned the square because there was no trace of beggars. Unless those poor souls simply cannot tolerate this artistic lightness.
After biting into the scene and weighing down my grocery bags, I went through the labyrinth. The light is beautiful, as night falls, as if for these farewells, which are promises of goodbye.