It was all the elegance that I had imagined, contained at that moment to the end of his fingers clenching the garlic,

In this kitchen without window, but view of the Moon.

This space of between us, where the only exigency is in the opening.



There is only in movement that you are fine, that you are you.




It was late, a little lost, telling himself that he didn't have long left to tell himself that he would have done something.

But all the same, what a pleasure he had to wander in the anarchy of his veiled life.

He breathed intelligence, adroit, savage. I felt a stronger instinct than anything emanating from him,

But it seemed impossible to know if he was governed only by that or if, at the opposite he was being suspicious more than anything.




Then the movement does not stop, the fluid gait, he advances.

I follow him , hoping to find an answer to this emergency without reason.




At the origin of this dinner, an aioli, a stimulus for my imagination: to create together to emulsify.

All the energy concentrated in this overexposed place, this bowl of yellow glazed faience with garlic mayonnaise took shape,

Photo-sensitive loving chemistry.

Inventing a permanent suspense of desire, a breath in constant revolution.

The game was initiated, but the rules were only established by immersive micro-events that were necessary

to detect in this blindness.

He knew that true efficiency was always discreet and silent.



He is free, I understand that it is only in movement that we are fine.



Were we able to find a synchronicity of our feelings?

A cadence, a timing, with no one to indicate the -La.

There, in front of this bowl of mayonnaise, could we trust each other?



Let us emulsify!




Intimacy and faith, so that the forces in power accept to be one, unit in a unique body.

Mayonnaise is foolproof as long as you have enough ingredients.

Chemically, the emulsion is always close at hand, catch-up.



Always continuing to mix, because there is only in movement that we are fine.




The lights were constantly changing, we were outside and contained in the center of this ceramic,

As two opposing bodies, heterogeneous in nature, oil and water.

Two stars, two phases.

Against nature, contradictory human nature, the emulsion is an intimate mixture of these two immiscible liquids.

Discreet mixture, macroscopically homogeneous, microscopically heterogeneous.

Impregnate of the other while staying yourself, freedom in motion.



Beat, beat again!

It's rising!




One of the two phases, dispersing in the form of fine droplets in the other.


The setting moon, the rising sun, the swallowed aioli, another day began.

A new emulsion to invent, different, this one of a color that would last.

A mixture that will remain stable, thanks to the third ingredient, the emulsifier, almost void in physicality,

Infra-mince(Infra-thin) in matter, composed only by the rate of evolution of the mixture.

Cadence, diapason for the two of us, the -La which allows us to start a new beginning on the musical stave.



The discreet echo of the note should never be lost.

Time acting on everything, despite the fatigue of the wrist that is constantly requested, if the movement stops,

The emulsion will pass out, the oil lighter than water, will rise to the surface, and they will separated again.



Getting lost in the other, without forgetting yourself, being attentive to all these sensitive variations of the landscape,

Like when we keep an eye on the heat go up in the vegetables on the fire,

Mix so as not to burn.




Together in this kitchen, this space of between us, where the only requirement is in the opening;

Because it is only in movement that we are.






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