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June 2014 : Adeline Spengler

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METAMORPHOSA

21.06.2014 // To enter a place. To feel lost in the metaphorical reality and feel the confusion of time. To wander in one’s own labyrinth. But suddenly, two stories come together. My mind breaks apart and I change universes. Realism drops away and I enter a dream. The surreal dream world envelops me and I start my metamorphosis.

Hotel Baume

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May 2014: Gaby Benicio

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In the darkness, the eye starts to see. What is the meaning of life? Existing, that’s all!

Acorda, acorda!!! Open your eyes! She’s there, sh’es always been there, that presence perfumed with orange blossom and acacia, that white smell everywhere in my room. Time stops, and that voice repeats three times: become who you are! Become who you are! Become who you are!

I sleep in the deep of the night. Tomorrow is the last day.

Hotel des Grands Hommes

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April 2014: Laura Stevens

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Breathing weight into this room’s absence, I am no longer sure whether my memories are real or imagined. Nostalgia pulls me closer and, in its embrace, the story has no end.

La Belle Juliette

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March 2014: Jean Noviel

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The more I go up the stairs, the more it feels like a voyage back in time, vaporous, permeable to the clamour of the city and the cries of a few cats on the Paris rooftops. I’ve been going to bed early for a long time now, but tonight I do not sleep: I galop, jump, climb. I’m the photographer of room 57…

On the walls, anonymous portraits watch me from the shadows. On the ground, lost words stretch out like distant memories. I have fun in the hotel, with its one-night tenants, and invent stories about lift attendants, missed rendezvous and turned-away lovers, games of hide and seek and robbers in the stairwell. But in the morning, it is all gone, the only remnant the white sky hanging above the Sorbonne and a night of memories to take home with me. Perhaps I got the day or the era wrong, a little lost in my metempsychosis…

Hôtel Design Sorbonne

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February 2014: Aurore Dal mas

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You remind me of my father, you always remind me that you are going to die and that he is gone forever.

Tonight, I eat alone at the restaurant you recommended, and I can very much see you here.

In no hurry, I walk up rue St-Jacques, hazy with the memory of our knowing intimacy, secret, lost.

I lie down without a smile. The red room goes black

Hôtel du Panthéon

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