They are luminous scales that dress our pupils and leave the feeling of almost accessible scansions haunting us; one never bathes in the same river twice... The detours, and the nocturnal or diurnal wanderings, are found in the visual epiphanies whose random combinations harbour secrets that the gaze will embrace. Nothing can be heard, seen, smelled or touched, the effluence has passed beyond all possible captures, or else one must abandon oneself to it, and that takes time. Since it is time that is at stake here, the flow of time in a flatness that gives it back its memorial dimension, like an hourglass that lets the images slip by rather than the protean and multicoloured grains of encapsulated sand. Will you only take the time?