It is Portugal. It is the beginning of humankind. In São Pedro da Afurada on the Douro River stands a man in waiting in a green room of his coming coronation.
Silvio said: “I am lost. But I will find myself,” unaware he was speaking a prophecy. For me. Ten days later my adrift life had firmly landed in a harbour that is not to let me go.
And now I will spend the year watching Silvio, anticipating his moment of becoming unlost. I want to be there to see his face when he finds the man he has known he is… through troubles and internment. Through all the economic world would do to ruin a man. How is it even in his unfoundness Silvio laughs?
Silvio’s equation: Be lost. Get found. If no one bothers come looking, find yourself. Everyone will be better for it.