In the train of "Sunset Limite", the force of reality compensates for the sobriety of the natural decoration. Except view, noise and the fury, the presence of water, the appearance of the sky, the passage of the seasons on a love story which proceeds elsewhere, on the good side of the spectrum.

In the train of "Sunset Limite", an old secrecy of heat and splendour evokes reduced and tiny obsession, of a remote close friend.

I would have liked to isolate to me from the scattered general beauty, for better bringing me closer to fire from where the light emanates and above which, some travellers, tired of the world, camping on an afflicted road, in an afflicted landscape, tell stories to circumscribe the fear and to reduce the doubts.

I now endeavour to see beyond the murmur produced by my thoughts.

Art is an imperfectible filigree from where imperceptibly the memory of the thin emanates which one did not live.

" touch me if you can ! "


810.811.812.813 814 815 816 817 818 819 820 821 822

823 824 825 826 827 828 829 830 831 832 833 834 835 836

837 838.839.840. 10 mars.841



Janvier . Février . Mars . Avril. Mai.Juin .

juillet . Aout. Septembre .Octobre .Novembre.Decembre




Janvier .... fevrier.....mars ... Avril ...Mai ... JUIN

Juillet ... Août... Septembre ... Octobre ...Novembre...Decembre


octobre. novembre . Decembre


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