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Time Out, Mary-Couégnias observes, was set in motion with a moment in her Parisian studio when there was “a promise to meet and an invitation to escape”:

Alone in this house, emptied since this morning of an imaginary visitor, I watch the solar prism of an invisible window. The heart embarrassed by a wind that has blown away a Parisian memory that thousands of luminous points dance and finish in dust. Some correspondence with the silence settles, creating the definition of the limits to be able to run away, and to abandon itself in a conversation that we didn't have. Everything …