6:14 p.m., City of the Arts, Paris 4th.

These days, I feel like I’m dealing with the limits of the day. My dances are more nocturnal, it’s dark, it’s raining, it’s cold. I push back the time to do “the minute” until the point where it will be difficult for me to do it. I let opportunities pass, I flirt with the moment when I will be most deprived, when there will be no light and nothing will hold my gaze, no color, no image. In this dark margin, where nothing seems given to me, I dance as much as I can at that moment. This sobriety of means or it is even difficult to think the image, touches the bare core of my commitment. On a wire, in the shadows, at the gates of the senseless violence of these times, I have been dancing, every day without exception for almost 8 years.