
Portrait. She dances in the center of her area. Obscure to the look. She abandons us to her limit. Turn. Count the chips. Conjugate. Turn on yourself, in a blind echo. Cross the already deserted space.
- Created by
- Martine Rousset
- Origin
- FR

Portrait. She dances in the center of her area. Obscure to the look. She abandons us to her limit. Turn. Count the chips. Conjugate. Turn on yourself, in a blind echo. Cross the already deserted space.
Tick an episode and the rest sorts itself out: what is waiting tonight, what airs tomorrow, what you abandoned two years ago. And under every episode, what other people made of it, without ever spoiling what comes next.
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