Two shaded characters, with poetic features, sometimes clownish, following the evocative sound of a carillon, accompany us on a musical and associative journey on footsteps of time.

We see them play with simple spells, minute dances, the unusual birth of a ower.They chase and meet, sometimes just in time sometimes out of time, because time, is known, is not a single thing.

oh time oh time
tic and tac tic and tac
time is never known, who knows what will be between cra cra time comes and goes and will never stop ssshhhhhh
the morning sun marries in the garden
the autumn with the leaves, then the winter takes them away eh eh eh green is spring the summer then comes true
the morning overlooks tina tina tì
and when it is evening the moon becomes a sphere
time … and one and two and three
magic …

Direction notes

What is time? A first glance innocuous question, but boasting pages and pages of philosophical elucubrations. It is difficult to give a shared definition. Surely time has to do with movement, whether it is its attribute or its derivation, and without the movement there would be neither time nor dance. For this reason – and for the countless ideas associations that it springs – we have decided to use this theme as a research area and as a means between the world of adults and early childhood.

Children are, first and foremost, inhabitant of the present. They move within a situation and explore the possibilities. They still do not know time, its promises and its injustices. We adults, however, know it too well, while it marks the rhythms, sometimes tragic, sometimes comic, of our everyday life. Two distant and strange worlds, poles apart. A perfect prerequisite for getting to know each other and to learn from each other.

Meanwhile

Time is around us, we are inside it, we cannot separate from it or even get rid of it, but if in the meantime, eager to entertain myself with a magic, I would allow me the luxury of losing time, would it be a fooling time?
I leave the accuracy of the second to the working time, if the gap is for a playful mumble, I swing to fall in a suspended time, if I chase time it doesn’t take me neither forwards neither backwards, but to watch the world from within a pause.

Do we know how to raise a flower without a sead, without soil, without water or even with little time? If we knew how to do it, it would be magic.