The moving staircase

Of glossy aluminum and heavy steel of cast iron, the iridescent arrow of this monster which raises us in the oiled rustling of its pennants of metal. Its teeth of killer whale hide its greasy machinery. Its calm swiftness dopes our stoutness. Automaton which allows us to step over the space.
Transported effortlessly, the messenger teleports his lascivious pounds from ground to sky, from the floors to the hells. At the top, down below. Quietly. Walking in the chain, industry of the small steps, treadmill without end or beginning.
Moving staircase, kinetic immobility which relieves our strides of the weight of the deaf and sovereign gravity to make us lighter in the space of a transfer, a journey between two geometrical plans. Diagonal with social utility. Points of conjunction of the human flows in the ant-hill.
Machine to slit the time.

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This film poem questions the geometric beauty of an everyday object. Something industrial, sociological, aesthetic… and even poetic. Thank for your message

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