"She pays no attention to the photographs, I don't know what to say to her, it is instinctive, I don't think, my head frames, sees, everything is so fragile, fleeting, as if the heart were in the eyes, the moment is this wave that comes onto the rocks and weds every detail, the words are cordial, the burning desire, two months our words have been crossing the oceans, they have become more than narrow, they no longer suffice. Sydney was too far." Extract from the text by Gil Rigoulet.