Felix by Felix the Saiz book is at the center of a paradox. Cats, so individualistic, cats we pretend to love for their independent nature, are suddenly so much missed .
Once gone missing, they cease to represent triumphant freedom, going about carefree from one block to another, from courtyards to gardens, each time a secret expedition.
Rather, once they are painstakingly put on the record, recounted in a few ingenuous lines, on a more or less average photo, they embody the anguish of love lost, the quest for an unlikely reunion and forever unanswered questions.
(...)When gone missing, they turn into as many pious mementos, ex-votos in the shape of small posters worn away by the passage of the seasons, frothed by humidity, little spectres, spiritistic visuals.(...)