The instant took on that restlessness that belongs to it alone; a look was there. I saw again the immortalised portraits of Nadar, and why this thought of Orpheus, and his daylight? The other side of the silk mirror, a tightrope thread. An original book in its form, since it is the reader who composes it, gluing on the self-adhesive images themselves, even writing their own texts, so that each copy becomes unique.