At 3am of a given Tuesday, while lines are still being formed in front of clubs at Palermo Soho, Buenos Aires, an inebriated man hums as he leaves a karaoke bar at Shibuya Avenue, in Tokyo, a movie is shot at Sunset Boulevard, in Los Angeles, bohemians discuss politics at the top of their lungs at Quartier Latin, in Paris. In Brasília, at W3 Avenue, everybody sleeps.

It is a privilege, not a forfeit, to live in a city that claims to be the heart of a gigantic nation, yet falls silent at nighttime. Mankind forgets that the states of sleep and dream are vital parts of life; are nourishment for the soul. The resident of Brasília is fortunate to live – however against their will, at times – in a city that knows how to fall asleep, that knows how to dream.

Three o’Clock Silence is an author series that began in 2008, through which I endeavor to capture the quietness in Brasília at 3am.

Through dozens of nighttime excursions, I position the camera tripod and direct my attention to the silence and placidity of the urban landscapes that embody them, under the yellowish light of the tungsten street lamps.

In one of the most beautiful works by Akira Kurosawa, the movie “Dreams”, the protagonist comes across an old man fixing a water mill. Intrigued by the simplicity and apparent lack of comfort with which the residents of the small village live, he inquires:

“But without electricity, you have no lights, so what do you about the evenings?”
To which the old man answers: “We have candles and lanterns, they are enough”
“But the night is dark!”
“Naturally, that is what nights are supposed to be. What did you expect?”