editorial
I always give credit to others for the incredible newness of their existence.
Christian Bobin, La lumière du monde (the light of the world)
in the fluid density of the field of our lives, the supple and complex weave born of the movements of one another
encounters
in the street or in the middle of nowhere, at any time: tiny and improbable encounters that shatter preconceptions and clichés
opening
Gaël wandering through the night on his scooter
the lady with the quiche in the Palais Royal
the couple of punks on the metro
the photographer at the Lion Fountain
Lucy, the sculptor
© Jim Jarmusch, Paterson
always shared glances, faces seen and recognised
light up
sometimes a listening ear is born
then we often open up more freely, as if in a hurry
it’s invigorating, it feels good, it connects
it wakes you up
the security guy at the Philharmonie de Paris
the festival volunteer
the young woman with the feather
Albert, the guard at the Musée Réattu
Hélène, the concert place girl
miracles
where frequencies intersect, a space appears: a vast open field
a brief confidence
fleeting, striking exchanges, of which almost nothing remains afterwards, and yet a great deal: something indescribable
a jolt, a flash that puts us back in tune with ourselves and in network with others.
a precious antidote
to empty stares
agreed words
to the veneer of commercial exchange
