It is with the air of fleetwood mac that I walk in the open scene of forgotten everyday historians, at the meeting point of a street crossing, arranged on tables of fortunes, they wait for it, to be read, understood , or imagined, waiting for an adoption for what they are and not an image simply conveyed. Political speeches burst, the election period approaches, an excitement reigns on the cobblestones which is transmitted subtly by "private jokes" as they like to boast themselves to be able to understand that between them, supporters of a same party. . At that time, I was not aware of my sensitivity, only my instinct dictated me to press the shutter button, out of frenzy or reflex, sometimes without even thinking about what I was photographing, slave of my eye, deaf from my senses, the connection called reason, did not yet exist. It was a constant struggle, self-image in front of the eyes of others, to acquire good speeches, good sympathies, to point out in a judge's tone being mistaken between Tuesday and Wednesday, the slightest fold of fabric said more about you than you were able to do. How to navigate in an invisible sea with a flying boat, wouldn't this be the story of the titanic facing Mont Blanc in the end? that of sitting blindfolded in front of a fan, and believe you are in full swing, until the juice no longer passes and it is a slap that it happens to us in the face? In my opinion, this photo is the image of hypocrisy, the unconscious art of being and remaining only a simple child dressed in masks that they choose to put on, by mimicry or by survival, in fact to be informed only of the victory of others and not of one's own, that of being oneself and humbly, someone in the same way as everyone else. Liberation from this disease means accepting that you can only be yourself, in a world that only remembers what you do, show or say, in order to be better placed as responsible for his choices and actions, and to be judged singled out for being what we are, which is not a bad thing to remember, but a victory to be freed from what the world buries in, the hypocrisy of believing oneself, the hypocrisy of attributing oneself, the hypocrisy of making up, the hypocrisy of hiding, of being what one is deep inside, someone as respectable and enviable than anyone else.