I film bodies as they become entangled and as they free themselves. I watch them gazing at themselves, all seeking to discover together in their faces the vestiges of an infinity: “the flower absents of all its scent”, as Mallarmé has written. I film bodies like faces. They lay themselves open, and in thus exposing themselves, they demand my benevolent presence. I film the faces of love in contrast to the omnipresent sneer of hatred.