Gold of hours is at the same time a plea and a promise for a time yet to come, without any assurance as to when, if and how that time will become ever present. Yet our patience will not be vain if it can keep the glimmer of a light always coming from somewhere else than the “here and now”. Gold of hours distills the idea of ​​an exodus, of the fragmentary and, sometimes, enlightening paths of a human community, with the ear stretched out towards the echoes of a present to come.