Time. Memory. Straub. And Huillet.

The boy was too young and did not have patience, or was too lazy to research what happened that day on Europe.

There were only a few images passing by, ideas out of context, two shots, two travelings seeking for something hidden, and ages of time between them. In the end, words taken out from a sort of a modern pamphlet, like if this world was an ancient one. And it is.
Like ever before World was longing for an inner subtle change, an instant pleasure, one that shook his soul until he found out it always was his.
Never before Art worried about the state of the world. But Art is an exception. And this step too. A false step. To an unknown place. Now, a place near Paris, without name, forsaken. A reality redeemed by this small time. A breath of air. The hidden place between two shots,
Straub
Huillet.

Every youngster needs a lesson:

The Ancient Was Now.
These new Ages,
are only Ages without Memory.

The Convention. After Effi Briest.

fig. 1 - "That tyrannical social element, not concerned with charm or love... or the lapse of time".

He's always talking about himself. All his clauses, all his gestures. You watch him dancing under the dark, established steps, a sudden subtle wink, and he captivates you without spell.

It exists a rule, a label: the Convention.
Then the aim of avoid taking part in the crime, or the attempt to change its name.

The trick:

fig. 2 - "Is not You, God, punishing me. It is he...".

A sort of different levels register.

And the magic:

fig. 3 - "He's small and petty".

fig. 4 - "Everything that's petty is cruel".

fig. 5 - "He taught the child to behave like that".

The irony.