1:38 p.m, à the entrance of « The Jungle », refugees camp, Calais.
Sidankar, whose path I ‘ve crossed on the road, brought me here. He came from Afghanistan three years ago, speaks french and wants to stay here. He has been in several countries and likes it better here. He’s briging some money to a little cousin who would like to go to England. While I’m dancing,glances are amused, curious and nice. People gather. The man with the camouflage pants seems to be upset. He watches the camera. The man with a hat, coming after, has pale blue eyes that seem to have lived a thousand lives. His hands are so warm. After my dance, Fatawu, from Ghana, Kalid and Aman, from Ethiopia, come to speak to me. They say it’s hard to find a place to sleep with that weather. There’s also a medicine shortage. An indian man asks me : « What style is this dancing ? I love that. ». Fatawu and Kalid ask me If I could dance again.