12:09 p.m., Butte-aux-Cailles street, Paris 13th. There are some days the minute of dance comes to me as a gift. The weather is grey and chilly, the street is deserted. I’m about to dance alone. I set my camera on it’s foot. When I look up, there he is. I join him and say : « That’s exactly what I am about to do. » His name is Hamir, he lives here and works at night. He came down to run some errands. While dancing he says : « Hey, wait a second… It’s as if I had known you. //// Oh my god. //// Absolutely./// I’m staying here./// Now I’m going to cook myself a couscous. » Then, when I tell him about the project, he says « I don’t dance very often, I’m don’t dance a minute a day, but when I do I dance for hours ». Street art : Bebarbarie / Urbansolid (Out of Eden).