VIATOR

–is a beast.

It’s an urban animal, a specimen of grime and asphalt, bike lanes and bus stops. It’s stalking your neighborhood, and it’s coming for you.

The beast is messy, dirty, real. It roams from city to city, prowling for conversations and experiences. It listens for stories and sniffs out dreams. It captures them, chews them up, and spits them out in bite sized heaps.

Viator invades your space. And your neighbor’s. It leaves its mark. Poetry on bus seats, photography on a street corner. It rips words from pages and carries them far and wide. The beast observes no boundaries and respects no walls. It makes its home everywhere.

To encounter the beast is to encounter something new. Your city turned into something you don’t recognize. Its constellations collected and scattered into new skies. Look up and see your city through the eyes–the memories and dreams–of another.

Viator is a vision. A map. It’s a compass point leading you somewhere you’ve never been. It connects here with there, now with then, you with another you. It is on fire. It’s a radiating quasar fueled by a galaxy. It’s a hungry dog with stars in its eyes, licking its chops for a taste of the world. It is restless. It is on the move. Its veins pulse with life.