Every building has several eyes.
Eyes have two directions. Inward and outward.
Eyes don't consider it very polite to stare into them for a very long time, which is why most eyes only gaze out. It is therefor often a little bit difficult to figure out how the world looks like inside an eye.
Some eyes even wear special items to protect their inner world, like curtains, or blinds or mirrored glass.
In the Marais however, most eyes want you to look into them. They even make a big effort out it. These eyes wear make-up, in the shape of beautiful items, clothing, jewellery. They flirt with their wonderful colours, their nice painted window frames.
They present you worlds, images, dreams. The one more beautiful then the other.
What makes these eyes so attractive is not only their looks, but even more their time. The time inside these eyes is different from the time outside the eye. The time inside these eyes is not only beautiful, joyful, and happy. The time is also eternally young.
These eyes change inside the blink of an eye. And thereby their perspective on the world changes.
In the Marais, many of these buildings exist.
During my daily routine, I walk through them and often see myself briefly kept in their gaze.
Caught in-between men, women, words, colors, vista's.
All of them together they form the eyes of the Marais.
There is a tragedy in this repetition, in knowing how they will look next. And they always look next.
Even at night most of them don't close. They just look, and look and keep on looking, like some Beckettian organism which can't stop it's own reincarnation.
But these eyes only know how to be born again, by looking at what they are not. Which means, by looking out. Into the world.
By looking at the world long enough, day-in, day-out, the world outside the eye slowly starts to resemble the world inside the eye.
Then the world's colours, its shapes, its forms and its time, which were previously only present in the eye, have become the world, and thereby have turned mortal.
And it is briefly before this moment, where the immortal world of the eye overlaps with the mortal world outside of the eye, when the eye blinks and thereby, washes itself clean.
Eyes are very tempting.
I walk through this neighbourhood a lot. I'm being looked at from all eyes.
Being an eye myself, I can't help but look back.