When can we say that we are out of childhood except when we remember it ?
There is sometimes some territories which we approach with trepidation, however, they are known lands, perhaps too much. In my memory, the territory of my childhood is defined by a few hills, some meadows, a forest, a village in France, a campaign as a playground. That's what we were at 12 years: children of the country, the children of a landscape... I had the chance to grow up in a protected environment, we were a few friends, some animals in fact with a territory. Young dogs peeing in the grass and mark their habitat. We had our huts, hiding places, secrets. This child then wrote my relationship to space and returning to those places is like being a kid, eternal, part of the earth. My black seasons are fields, peasants, the darkness of a church, the silence of the forest, mad dashes and lowing of cattle, the inexorable passage of time between my fingers. Live and go back to where things started, a Möbius strip that burns my hands but I can not let go.