Morning, noon, evening, night. In front of their dressing room, back and forth. Behind the curtains, they are there. Abder, Elisabeth, Manuela, Marie-José, Mariela, Paula, Sybèle. They are the building’s eyes and ears. Women’s heels banging on the floor, the creaking of Each step of the stairway, the gentle or brutal way The elevator shuts, the cries, whispers… They know. What do we know about them? They crack open their curtains.
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