While advancing along the road, the headlights, like immovable landmarks, mark the correct route for those who know how to interpret their signs. A particular light cadence translates the geographical coordinates and, like a clock that with the arbitrary position of its hands marks the hours, assures us that we are in this or that place.
These involuntary lighthouses position us on an unattainable and sporadic map. The data remains but its primary function is lost, and yet, as we move forward, it gives us, from time to time, little glimpses of beauty.
