If our bulimic civilization were to disappear one day, suffocated, I would be the last man. The survivor, the one who trudges down the long beaches of the infinite ocean looking for a sign, looking for an other. The horizon will be so empty, so deserted that the plastic debris I run across will be the only proof of my past. I will look at it deeply, thirstily, to remember. It will be vast and precious in my eyes.
With the series After the Future, it is the romantic notion of « too late » to be questioned, this poetical understanding of an act that we can’t erase any more. I talk about deference and I narrate as well the thrilled melancholy of someone who gives up before fighting but who feels alive in front of his own failure.
