Matthieu Deniau

Women and men are lost in their thoughts at random hours of the day and streets of the city. From this sudden intimacy, the murmurs of their little inner voice let us hear the anxieties of love.

January 2016. The love story that brought me to this village in Alsace where I live ended six months ago. At 45, I am now alone, without a car, a job or any real prospects, surrounded by luxuriant nature, the proximity of which is not enough to calm the deep distress into which I am plunged. I am lost and I watch four to five films a day. I decide to record this stagnation, not by picking up a camera but by editing shots from the stream of films I watch.

Women and men are lost in their thoughts at random hours of the day and streets of the city. From this sudden intimacy, the murmurs of their little inner voice let us hear the anxieties of love.

January 2016. The love story that brought me to this village in Alsace where I live ended six months ago. At 45, I am now alone, without a car, a job or any real prospects, surrounded by luxuriant nature, the proximity of which is not enough to calm the deep distress into which I am plunged. I am lost and I watch four to five films a day. I decide to record this stagnation, not by picking up a camera but by editing shots from the stream of films I watch.