A parable on time. A game of metamorphoses. A passage after a death, a second death. A woman gives birth and dies. At the moment of her death, a moment at midway point, like the beginning of sleep, her face disintegrates and assumes the aspects of those who stand by her at her death. A descent begins, images of profound memory rise to the surface and the body is torn by the conflicts of those who inhabit it. It becomes a field of agitation. Its voice – its unique voice – dissolves into many voices and many roles. Mourning ends, when the cycle of descent ends and the body is abandoned by the forms which inhabited it. The universe remains empty. A painting for him who looks at it may become his secret dream, a dream never seen in sleep and yet which persistently incites to wakefulness.
