« Marc Limousin hears sounds.
Things, murmurs of souvenirs…
He sees the rock, the perception of the stone in the flowing terrain.
The crack of nature frozen. The fallen branch speaks to him of the tree: the first tree.
Time flows through the cold and supple water: into this Marc plunges his hand and designs nature’s natural history.
Our original language. The vibration of our lives traced by the light in front of our eyes.
Visual music and collective memories.
Our unconscious becomes open to our eyes.
The magic operates»