Dans ta gorge les géantes emportées

In your throat the giantesses swept up
By tongue tempest
Tell the straining flesh
Beware
The tongue that yields
Sleep
Speak the words the air can’t carry
They tell the waiting hand
Dream
Draw the images only your fingers can see

Excerpt from the story

In a world that could be the past or the future, two women are working to invent a new language. One is deaf, and she signs a story. It tells of the creation of a world in which Hands invent languages and things. They draw, and when they draw, they speak, and when they speak, they produce: air, time, space. A body takes shape and the tale becomes a love poem. The other woman can hear; she sings what overflows from the signs and words, their intensity, their rhythm, their prosody. Sign language becomes dance while the voice becomes material: at a certain point, they cease to signify in order to literally replay the birth of things and bodies.