en Cuevana. If I had had the good fortune to be the keeper of the Jardin des Plantes for a day, I would have wanted to take my visitor wherever I wanted, wherever everything moves along like in a song or a poem. Without any educational agenda, without scientific respectability. In an invitation to drift, to hypothetical encounters, to reconciliations of universes, in words and sounds, wind and dreams. To watch, listen, and discover the magic of the world. Nothing would be serious, but everything would be important.
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