Here everything breathes, a lost contact is established again.Those
shadows in the cornic; the room has lungs, it palpitates. Yes, electricity
is eleatic, it turned our shadows to stone. Now they are part of the
furniture and the faces. But here, on the other hand… Look at that
moulding, how it’s shadow is breathing, that volute that rises and falls.
In those days man lived in a soft and porous night, in a continuous
dialogue. The terrors, what a luxury for the imagination.
You believe in the principle,” said La Maga.
“How complicated. You’re like a witness.
You’re the one who goes to the museum and
looks at the paintings. I mean the paintings
are there and you’re in the museum too,
near and far at the same time. I’m a paint-
ing. Rocamadour is a painting. Etienne is
a painting, this room is a painting. You
think that you’re in this room, but you’re
not. You’re looking at the room, you’re not
in the room.
