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I’m in the cracked stomach of the mountain and inside of me.
Few sounds. I listen, I listen to me.
Light that blinds and breaks on the geometric sides.
A cloud, a pause.
I try to get more into it…
I stop in front of a stone wall, I grasp something…
I start shooting.


At the border between sand and water.
I become rhythm.
A bit solid a bit liquid, the eye pulls itself together on the fleeting detail of the end of the wave.
Harmonic curves of a contact .
I back off and come close.
I start from there.


Standing in the middle of the creek.
Eyes closed.
Tickling of music.
What is tickling my eye?
Everchanging shapes, reflections and transparencies.
I try to grab them.

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