Traces of a shadow, like the life in a room, remain where they have been cast on the sand, in the earth, on the paving. We have left a trace of ourselves as our shadow goes to join the multiple shadows of the past. Odysseus once cast a shadow here. And Priam and those who came before and after. Corinth, Ephesus, London, Paris, Berlin. We move on. Our shadows remain – as shadows. They linger on, no longer seen, together with all the other shadows once cast here.
What happens to our shadows once we are gone? Do they remain, disembodied, like Peter Pan’s shadow, waiting for someone to attach them to a dream, or to a memory? If only we can capture them, they will still speak to us.