At the early morning blink of the mountain tops of the Himalayas, the snow does not miss to enchant me.
In the daily wake up call, in the name of all of us, I have for water procurement, one hiking gear bottle, per day for hygiene, while I contemplate daily, a water reserve under my eyes....
Not that my hygiene with a glove at the time of my grand-parents, bothers me, but after all, I have the impression to come back forty years ago. I wonder: “How does that happen that we do not use this ice”; my hosts answer me instantaneously: “the water is exported”. A blue gold’s politic in which I am the exportation product of the 21th century. And “rock the cargo boat in this imbroglio north-south: I experiment biographically a sidereal emptiness.
Few years later, in a poetic shattering through the oxymoron between existence and substantial abyss, I find an autobiographic inspiration to be near a subterfuge of a crowd fascinated by the elementary power of water.
In this biographic experimentation to chaotic fascination, I borrow a narrative style in journalism and the adaptation in short film, where I am on stage with the narrative strategy of the « I » to the other, in the counter-current of anthropologic self-effacement.