What is in a change of light? What is the space under a bridge?
So many greens as there are shades in the spectrum. And each colour, like a fractal, shows within its own range all colours.
That human engineering, painted some shade of green, standing in for something rather brown or grey, if not black — how does it insist on itself, next to all grown kinds of green?
Is this a friendly encounter, under the bridge over a river, a stream, a current, a brook, the “Wienfluss”, a bridge between Hadersdorf and Purkersdorf, red Vienna and (formerly) black Niederösterreich?
We do not feel the love, we rather feed on a change of light, a slight informational, perceptive mico-difference that is to us the equivalent of good food.
