The young woman is terribly silent. Her features are delicate ; her arrow-like ears and her cerulean hair surprise me. She turns to me, but she doesn\u2019t seem to see me. I don\u2019t belong to her world.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I call on her. She shudders as if she had heard a whisper. After a while, she shakes her head and puts on a melancholy air, before turning back.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
An older woman comes on. Wrapped in leather, she glances around with suspicion. Her fine face is dotted with spots. The blonde hair, short, has some red highlights under the light.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u00c0 sa fa\u00e7on de se d\u00e9placer, je devine une chasseresse. Elle interroge sa prot\u00e9g\u00e9e, puis l\u2019incite \u00e0 la suivre d\u2019un air d\u00e9pit\u00e9. Elles sont visiblement attendues. Je les regarde partir sans oser les suivre<\/a>.<\/p>\n\n\n\n The landscape suddenly disappears and I find myself in my garden. My eternal pen twirls before my eyes under the movement of my hand. I drop it with surprise to have a look at my watch. The clocks turn briefly in the opposite direction. The purring of my cat on my knees makes me offer her my attention.<\/p>\n\n\n\n I just wanna... go back<\/a>.<\/p>\n\n\n\n