8:37, p.m., Gentilly.

There are days that recquire everything. After a day of work, it’s around 5pm, I go out looking for a place to dance. But it’s dark and cold and I’m K.O.
I drive around Paris and stop several times. 3 hours go by, I found nothing I could dance with.
Discouraged, I go home to warm up, ready to go out again after having a soup. It’s in those moments when nothing seems to invite to dance and the body is reaching its limits that this project requires
the most sharpened determination. How does one invest a poetic dimension of the ordinary in those circumstances ? There’s not even a little light to give some charm to a grey wall, nothing. But this project is precisely to dance every single day, those ones included, in the real state of things.