Quand une voix tient ce qui n’existe plus…

Listening to the voice of the Indian from Uashat for a long time. And entering—amazed—an unsuspected universe full of life, death, all in the form of legends and silences. And hearing the song of the Territories. With the places on the horizon where the sun and the moon, the snow and the rain, the day and the night are said to have been born. To hear the echo of ancient cosmologies. To listen for a long time. A voice that, trailing and worn, like the tired old hunter’s footsteps, takes on the burden of an entire universe—an island-mother—who is dying.