3:35 p.m., Georges Pompidou way, Paris 4th. Below the Célestins qu’y, the lanes on shore are flooded. On the other shore Saint-Louis island.
As I’m dancing, Alexandre, one of my former Paris 8 performance art students, waves at me. He says : « I saw you in the distance, so I walked up to you. I always knew I would run into you one day ».