At first sight, every zebra looks like another one of the herd, and they use this similitude to confuse their predators : the lion gets bewildered by all those running white-and-black stripes. However, scientists have discovered that every specimen of the zebra family owns a unique and distinctive pattern of stripes.

Strange. Perhaps, the most common feeling in humanity is precisely that deepest and earnest desire to be, somehow, unique. Screaming in the face of the world, at the top of our lungs, or just murmuring it, this tiny little thing that says, I exist. Who cares if I don’t really know who I am, as long as I can prove that I exist, and I am something different from you. This primary consciousness, today, seems to isolate any personal implication : I exist because you say it, because you see me. If I get in front of a camera, then I am. Wow. And If I don’t?
I should go on a Safari trip and look at the zebras and the sunburnt landscapes of the savannah.

Maybe Plato was right : we’re just shadows moving on the walls of a damp cavern, originated by some distant projector. Let’s play with appearances then, it could be so funny to give them prismatic nuances.



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