| Original French | My English | DeepL English |
|---|---|---|
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A Vendre Le sol, ce sans quoi on ne saurait se regarder et se mouvoir. Des images qui témoignent de la place physique de l'homme quand il regarde : les pieds posés sur le sol, le regard dirigé par ceux-ci. Et le sol est ovale. Où l'oeil amène le corps à entrer en action. |
For Sale The floor, without which we could not see nor feel. Images that evoke the reality of man when he looks: feet on the ground, eyes looking thereafter. And the ground is oval. Where the eye begs the body to begin. |
For Sale The ground, without which we could not look at ourselves and move. Images that testify to the physical place of man when he looks: feet placed on the ground, the gaze guided by them. And the ground is oval. Where the eye brings the body into action. |
| À la Vie, à l'Homme, à la Terre | To life, man, and Earth | To Life, to Man, to the Earth |
Acte I - Act 1 - Act 1
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Merde Un soir, en une seconde, comme un éclair, vous sentez un courant passer dans votre corps. Un courant indescriptible vous transperce le corps. Ça ne fait pas mal, ça ne fait pas de bien ; ça passe. En un éclair, plus rien. Plus un bruit, pas même le bruit du silence, plus un souffle, plus un tremblement, plus rien. Le néant vous envahit. Oui, c'est cela, le néant vous envahit. En une seconde, votre corps n'est plus soumis à la pesanteur, ni aux lois humaines, ni même à la conscience. Votre esprit rétrograde, ralentit. Vos pensées et réflexes sont comme un vieux 33 tour rayé qu'on lit en 45 tours. Un truc qui vous revient sans cesse avec une lenteur incroyable. |
Shit One night, in a second, in a mere flash, you feel a current pass through you. An indescribable current, shoots throughout your body. It doesn’t hurt, it does no good. It passes. Like that it’s gone. No longer a noise, not even the noise of silence, not the breeze, not the shakes, nothing. The void invades. Yes, that’s it, the void invades you. In a second, your body is no longer human, not bound by physical laws, nor weight, nor even consciousness. Your soul retrogrades, slows. Your thoughts and reflexes are like an old 33 rpm record spun at 45 revolutions a minute. Something that returns unfailingly with an intense slowness. |
Shit One evening, in a second, like a flash of lightning, you feel a current pass through your body. An indescribable current pierces your body. It doesn't hurt, it doesn't feel good; it passes. In a flash, nothing. Not a sound, not even the sound of silence, not a breath, not a tremor, nothing. Nothingness invades you. Yes, that's it, nothingness invades you. In a second, your body is no longer subject to gravity, nor to human laws, nor even to consciousness. Your mind regresses, slows down. Your thoughts and reflexes are like an old scratched LP played at 45 rpm. Something that keeps coming back to you with incredible slowness. |
| À l'origine de cela: un coup de merde. Ana, plus qu'une amie, une vraie sœur. Depuis la plus tendre enfance, celle avec qui on partage de petits moments pudiques. La vraie amie qu'on ne perdra jamais même en passant trois mois sans nouvelles. Celle avec qui on se marre bien aussi. La pote quoi. On se dit pas qu'on s'aime, mais putain qu'est-ce qu'on s'aime! Jamais on ne peut, ne serait-ce qu'imaginer qu'elle puisse nous tuer. Ce soir là, elle l'a fait. Mais on se dit, «allez, pas de rancune, tu es mon amie, ma sœur. Je te pardonne. » Puis... autre coup de fusil! Je prends une grande respiration. Puis pan! Pan! Pan! Deux coups de fusils dans le ventre à secondes d'intervalle! Un troisième, un quatrième coup de merde avant le cinquième quelques heures plus tard. Mais les deus precedents avaient deja été mortels. | The cause of all this: a real heartache. Ana, a sister more even than a friend. For a long as we can remember, she who we shared our little intimacies. The real friend that we could never lose no matter the time apart. She who shared our laughter. La pote quoi. We don’t say we love each other, but shit how we do. Never did we imagine she could kill us. Tonight, she has. But we say “go ahead, no worries, you are my friend, my sister. I forgive you”. Then another shot rings out. I take a deep breath. Then bang! Bang! Bang! Two shots to the stomach in seconds. A third, a fourth… before a fifth hours later. But the killing blow was already delivered. | At the root of it all: a shitty moment. Ana, more than a friend, a real sister. Since early childhood, the one we share little moments of modesty with. The true friend we'll never lose even if we go three months without news. The one we have a good laugh with too. The buddy, you know. We don't tell each other we love each other, but damn, we love each other so much! We can never even imagine that she could kill us. That night, she did. But we say to ourselves, "Come on, no hard feelings, you're my friend, my sister. I forgive you." Then... another gunshot! I take a deep breath. Then bang! Bang! Bang! Two gunshots to the stomach seconds apart! A third, a fourth shitty moment before the fifth a few hours later. But the two previous ones had already been fatal. |
| Colère, haine, froid, tremblement, déprime. | Anger, hate, cold, trembles, despair. | Anger, hatred, cold, trembling, depression. |
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Olivier. Le... difficile à définir... super pote, ex amant et presque amoureux secret. Le fantasme du moins. Oui, ou, tout cela en une seule personne. On se connaît depuis 5 ans. Sans être véritablement amis, mais copains. Et depuis le jour de notre rencontre, ça a toujours été étrange, presque ambigue. Une espèce d'attraction physique. Comme une compatibilité évidente. C'est le copain qu'on a très envie de prendre dans ses bras le jour où on est un peu triste, un peu mélancolique, où on a envie du réconfort de maman de quand on était petit. ... |
Olivier. He… the difficult to define… super pote, ex lover, and secretly almost yours. The fantasy of less. Yes, and, all this in one person. We’ve known each other since we were 5. Without really being friends, but partners. And since the day you met it’s always been strange, almost ambiguous. A weird type of physical attraction. Like a self evident compatibility. His arms, those we want to be taken in by on days where we are a little sad, a little melancholic, where we need the comfort of a mothers arms we’ve not had since we were young. ... |
Olivier. The... hard to define... great friend, ex-lover, and almost secret crush. The fantasy, at least. Yes, or all of that in one person. We've known each other for five years. We're not really friends, but we're buddies. And since the day we met, it's always been strange, almost ambiguous. A kind of physical attraction. Like an obvious compatibility. He's the friend you really want to hug on days when you're feeling a little sad, a little melancholy, when you want the comfort of your mother when you were little. ... |
… To be continued.