Ca cest mon memoire.

Cest ma memoire qui c'est revele ici dans sa tentative dsespre de ne

disparatra pas.

This is another day and soon I will be in another country. There was no line between there and here. My
last night became my first day without letting me know............................................................. Let me go.

This is written to and through all of you. Always changing. Can we not forget?

GET WHAT YOU NEED OR WHAT YOU THINK YOU NEED. DO NOT THINK TOO MUCH. YOU CAN NOT
GET ANYTHING ELSE THAN WHAT YOU ARE PREPARED TO RECEIVE.

< this is just a workshop, it will not change your life> <.....................................> <tu dois changer ta vie!>

> this is just a recycle bin <

I know no/thing about any/thing.

the pain is t/here.
deep, silent, but not still.
work/ing in depth.
find/ing her way back soul.
I am

WRONG

I should have

1: LIGHTNESS, 2: QUICKNESS, 3: EXACTITUDE,

4: VISIBILITY, 5: MULTIPLICITY,

6: CONSISTENCE.

I should be nurished by

1. le monde qui m'entoure

2. ma propre histoire

3. la langage

4. la fiction.

We sometimes have so different visions of the same thing. There is no contradiction in here. One
experience takes the place of another. There is no vague and clear. Clear hides the vague and vague hugs
the clear. Some of you might hear it with the voice that gave them birth, some of you might hear another
story, some of you might not hear anything. Anyway, you will just hear it as you already know it.
In the last three weeks I was part of a Life Long Burning project. I was exhibiting in an exposition while I
was visiting it. I was thrown in another society and I got the chance to see how would it be to be an
ex.c.e.r.ce Master student in Montpellier. I could just pretend that I was one of them, as if I always lived
there, as if my trip to Bucharest was just a "mobility". In the end, I was leaving home to go back home.

|intermezzo|

we are still knocking softly at all the doors.

we are not sure we want to be opened.
we knock softly and we leave.
we are quietly announcing
our presence.we all need
to be allowed to be.
idiots.

In the last three weeks I was part of a society which was <crafting its independence from social
behavior>. We were practicing intimacy in a social environment. I was practicing life.
I was never able to draw a line between my work and my life. I was always bringing everything in and I
was writing with the desire to separate, to define and to remember. Now I've accepted that I cannot not
forget. Now I've accepted that I can not freeze any moment, any dance, any feeling, any love. Now I've
allowed myself to be what I already was. Now I've admitted that I know more than I think I know.
In the last three weeks I wanted to make the difference between life and work even thinner than it
already was. I wanted even more to find that nonlinearity that nourishes me and to be able to connect it
with the tools that I'm using. It is like tuning your instrument. Except that you can not do it before and
just start playing. You are tuning your tools while you are using them. You learn how to write while
writing and you learn how to dance while dancing and you learn how to talk while talking. You can not
learn otherwise. You have to admit that you know in order for you to be able to learn. You are your own
teacher and your own student.
I knew that the only things that gave sense to my existence were the questions but I was constantly
trying to formulate answers. Now I learn to live always in the questions. Without fear.

|memory of a solo|
She will built herself a home and if it falls it will not be a big deal
> this is a question <

In the last three weeks I tried to work on my solo. It felt almost impossible. I was always surrounded by
18 other persons who were also working on their own projects. I was always a resource for them,
always on a fine line to becoming a perturbation. I knew I had a limited amount of time to be with them
and I wanted to use it. At the same time, I needed time alone. I've often chosen to isolate myself, but I
was feeling guilty for my choice. I was constantly fighting myself. I was constantly doubting my choices
and needs. I did not trust to do what I needed because I was convinced that I needed something else. I
worked without stopping, but I saw no results. I was constantly asking myself what means to work and
what I want to work on. The hardest thing was to accept that it is what it is. Nothing less and nothing
more. Without simplifying, without amplifying. Without coloring and without refusing. Neither profound
nor stupid. It was only what it was.
|memory of a solo|
She cannot not be in relationship with the space

She cannot not be in relationship with the audience

> this is a story <

In the last three weeks I often wanted to have a teacher which would tell me what to do. I was in a
school - I wanted to be thought. I wanted to meet someone who knew. Someone I could trust. Someone
who could create a web where I could have thrown myself into. Instead, we have carefully woven
together our own net.

|memory of an image |

DH asks & DD answers. DH listens carefully. She wants to learn.

> this is not my rhythm <

In the last three weeks I cheated myself. I found myself choosing familiar things. I found myself
borrowing movement vocabulary and writing techniques from the others. Nothing brutal, just a
supermarket.

> this is what it is <

In the last three weeks I moved, talked, wrote and touched with 18 people for 7 hours / day.

> this is an exchange <

|memory of a lecture|

real things touch real people

the way you exist touches the world

In the last three weeks I was part of an ecosystem. I trained my body to think, receive and react. I
trained myself to let it be. I trained my mind to work like that in every activity.

to continue being while receiving. to find a continuous honest flow,

faithful to you and to the relationship you are practicing

> this is an experience <

I write as if in the last three weeks I had completely changed myself. In a way I did. Because I could not
not change. Time could not not pass. I could not put my life on pause. In the last three weeks I lived an
experience. I could not avoid that. It was what it was and it obviously left traces in my body. It activated
different parts of what I already was. It let some grow and let others fade away.
Thank you all for letting me be.

In the last three weeks I had the opportunity to see how another university works. I saw that people
have the same complaints no matter what they receive. I saw that people have the same problems even
in a world with less problems.
q: what is my problem with the society?
I think I hate society because it does not let you to discover on your own. Even if you choose to follow
your own path, to create it naturally on the way, you are still invaded with models and opinions about
everything. Instead of discovering from not knowing you first have to refuse all the alternatives. And
there are things that touch you. Sometimes you get hit on your way. Sometimes they put you down.
Sometimes they convince you. But you don't want to be neither hit nor convinced. You just want to have
time to discover. You don't want to be told.
Please don't force me anymore. I struggle to be honest. I struggle to shout it out loud when I don't
know. I don't want to give somebody else's answers to the questions I did not even have time to put to
myself. I know that I can not believe anything which I haven't found out on my own.
So please, keep your answers to yourself! You know it all. Good for you!
a: the way I put myself in relationship to it.

> this is a trace <

In the last three weeks I discovered an obvious thing: writing has a form which stays.

|memory of a solo|

You can not write an empty page.

You are already written. You can not erase your story.
In the last three weeks I had a lot of questions about the importance of fixing things in dance, life or
writing.

|memory of a solo|

Hands are holding their breath. How can I grab the present?

I believe only in shapes born from necessity - spontaneous linear manifestation of the nonlinear.

I can not believe in a thought that does not leave a trace in your body.

> this is about everything and anything at all <

In the last three weeks I had a lot of questions about the line between life and performance. How thin
should it be? To extend the limits of the usual, to create from the desire of saying and not from the
desire of doing or to clearly define the line between life and work? To work, to move forward, to
become acrobats or to dare to be acrobats in every aspect of our life?

to always be free. to choose freely from the ways of expression and action. always from necessity.

By putting something on stage you are automatically giving it importance. But what is the value of this
forms of existence in a social environment? Maybe here the only ones which can resist are the honest
ones. The ones which validate themselves as necessary to the expression of the person, the ones which
move the space without the space's approval or desire to be moved, without the attention of the space.

the space is full of questions and answers

How can one just look? How can one become an eye? Maybe I have no interest in just seeing, maybe I
want you to make me see. I am only interested in what I feel. It is the only thing that I can believe. I am
totally selfish. I want you to make me feel. I want you to put questions. I like when you give birth to
thoughts but I want you to always bring me back to non thought.

I am hungry. Thank you feeding me

How much do I want to see more than what it is? How much do I add? How much do I need to add? Do I
force it to be more? Does this kill its life?

Fighting my fantasy... Maybe I am not searching for the truth.

I want to see more than what it is happening: the potential and the essential, the hidden and the unsaid.
Maybe I search more than it is. Maybe I create. Maybe I add.

I enhance and I break. Sometimes I refuse.

I want to have access to the inner image which moves you and not to the image you are creating in
space. I want to hear you.

I will not surrender to what it is.

 she loves the unspoken potentials

she likes to play with the pauses

my heart knows how to beat

What if fantasy is what it is?

What if my ideals are already written in the potential?

> this is a recycle bin < EACH TIME WHEN YOU START SOMETHING, IT IS ALREADY HEADING TO THE END
> my mind formulates unfamiliar things in unfamiliar languages > my place is where I am > my body is
now the place of her research> What happened with my music? Maybe we have created a symphony
<WHAT IF THE RELATIONSHIP IS ALREADY THERE?> I ask again: why do I dance? I'm afraid I forget too
often. <<TURN YOUR FUCKING HEAD!>> eliminate judgement, move more, be < NO BIG DEAL> my body
does not have to always know <WHAT IF THE DEPTH IS ON THE SURFACE?> You know more than you
think you know <I don't know what being in relationship to someone means, but I am here to find out. If
someone gives me the opportunity to be in a dance studio to practice this, I will do it!> WHAT IF DANCE
IS HOW I PRACTICE LIFE? > my body needs time to think <TO FINISH STARTING JUST TO BE ABLE TO
CONTINUE IT > < I AM STEPPING UP SO THAT I CAN LET GO >

>THIS WAS JUST A SUPERMARKET< Thank you, CCNM, 4Culture and Long Life Burning for letting me
WORK-SHOP for three weeks from Deborah Hay, DD Dorvillier, Ingrid Berger Myhre, Aria Boumpaki,
Pauline Brun, Sorour Darabi, Arthur Eskenazi, Bruno Freire, Paula Pi, Jule Flierl, Julie Gouju, Patrick
Haradjabu, Bastien Mignot, Tidiani N'Diaye, Pedro Prazeres, Calixto Neto, Lyon Eun Kwon, Adaline
Anobile, Myrto Katsiki and Laurent Pichard.

*All the texts written between closed <> are quotes from the persons enumerated above as I
remembered them.