Des air(e)s d’anges

We hardly know where we come from, stardust or simple clay, it remains a mystery in the chaos of the world. Do we even know who they are, these three we see before our eyes, who are said to have come from a great nameless nothingness, these three cluttered with themselves, who seem to be moved by a musician in the magic of notes and the immoderation of sounds? Sitting on the great bench of life, they try to unite their destinies in the flesh and blood of their brotherhood. In their clumsiness, fortunately for us, for want of words, they have bodies, which invent the dance, just for the time of a show, with a few angel feathers by way of light.