The world of shadows is that of ghosts and phantoms. They err in an ephemeral world lost in their immateriality. They cannot exist without light. They follow us and without them, there would be no beauty. They can be seen in dreams. The shadows take on a new elongated form. Freed from the material world they are joyful. I always marvel at the shadow of a bird flying by. The shadows of sculptures in museums often have even more appeal. In Tanizaki’s In Praise of Shadows, they maintain a sense of mystery in an age of knowledge. For Plato, in the allegory of the cave, they represent a sinister illusion of the reality of prison. More recently, we see the shadowy imprints of the dead after the nuclear blast in Hiroshima.