Erbium
     
Erbium
(...) I love those things that aren't what they are. It is raining. But it looks like the swaying of an old chandelier. Something like a tremor that is not a tremor. A whisper that comes from some closed room. In 1999 I went to live in a coastal town called Niebla, in the south of Chile. It was a small wooden house on stilts, under which there was no water, but ground. That same year, I began research in chemistry, on two elements, Erbium (Er68) and Promethium (Pm61), both belonging to the so-called lanthanides or rare earths. Now I live in Paris, 21 years have passed since then. This last time, the earth is strange. And that sensation is translated into a colour, a very particular grey, which in my memory only Erbium possesses.
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