This prose poem is a lament I wrote and dance to, to embody this character whose arms give birth to words, welcome them and protect themselves from them. The undulations make the dance echo any calligraphy, and thus become a language to be deciphered. Only the upper part of the body is perceived, as if the rest were already engulfed in the darkness called forth by the text. This poem is both a monologue and a dialogue: the tragic monologue of a woman mourning her dead love; abd the melancholy dialogue: between Arabic music (enveloping the text) and Jewish calligraphy (translating this poem into prose). Whether it's a woman's monologue or a dialogue between cultures, it's all about proximity, love and death. Failed rendezvous, land, uprooting and exile. In this context, "May peace be with you" which opens the poem, and "May love be with you" which closes it, are invitations to resist the death drive that inhabits us and dances, sometimes languidly, within us. It looks at us with an oblique or more frontal gaze, hypnotizing us.
