Monday May 18th 18:17, the relief of a first day completed, a semblance of routine not to totally slide, some landmarks, the table from witch I write those lines, the branches grabbed and placed on a closet to figurate the french institut bookcase.

Sunday May 17th from memory: I woke up over the sea, comforted by what was earned ans maybe not deserved, surrounded, loved maybe, questioning what the moment was made of, a normality, a minute after an other , ce qui when each moment seems to be a définitive truth.

Until May 9th you can see the féminité and cris at

Early March, Joyce Yahouda, in her Pop-up Gallery in New York, has shown some of the Cris, as eclairors.