The Instinct of Imbalance

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4 individuals in an empty space. A space to sweep, with nothing to hold on to. A space to create something stable, solid, balanced or to launch furiously into the unstable and the “unsolid”, necessarily unusual also because the imbalance borders on the unknown. Stillness does not exist or is of little interest.

Everyone lost in their clumsiness will have to become one with the other to flirt with fall, failure, the absurd.

By savoring the incredible happiness of being out of balance, they will touch the intimate. The one who only comes close in rare moments of despair and abandonment. That, fleeting, of the passengers of the plane in free fall. They will have to meet what they carry within them. Without make-up and without net. To meet their glorious “bancality”, their glorious humanity.

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