Nighttime, the lit hall of a building, from a window that lights up, from a window on dark room, from a light that turns on, from this window frame, is of her back, of her back to of the window, with a gesture of the hand toward something outside. An alarm, the noise of steps or a slight movement who opens a door, who enters, from a passage on a wall and from one room to the next until the bedroom, arrives in the room, deposits an object, piece of stone, flower fossil that places among books, returns, grazes lightly or touches all the lines of the flower. Beyond the bedroom turns on, from the drawer, nail and hammer, returning hooks the flower, she, just beside the poster. Chooses a photo another, points out skin while coming back to the books, grazes, caresses a coffee table leg, advances toward a photograph to the hand that flips through pages, from the images glimpsed on the flipped-through books, looks at all of them attached to the wall, turns around, stops in front, says in a movement, proceeds to her image, focuses on photos showing, over which the eyes wander, stops, goes and comes back along the row of photos, while the other quickly relights the lamp with a metallic click. In the very distinct click of the metal rod buffeted by the wind is a rattling: standing restless or as if everything froze with his glance as the noise grows stronger with the winging movement, face retreating without a single movement to the metal poles always in the movement with always the noise retreating more, considers, represents a woman like Diana the Hunter in classic pose, approaches, disappears, appears immobile like someone lost in thought or lost, lifts for a moment the head as the noise from the glass door doubles triples, fan and rod giving city or objects as lone beings. (Translated by Carrie Noland)