Lhe apple tree of the neighbor seems to have exploded in the night to come and threaten their garden with its surge in white flowers. With the same speed as her daughter’s hair which sometimes seems to take several centimeters in length in a few hours, in their back. But all as they are, can they really trust their perception these days, now that they are confined, locked up, under house arrest for more than four months?
The real in its entirety, the time line, the space, everything seems distorted; Both densified and ghostly. Their house and their very small garden have become the whole world. A territory to defend. Relations with the neighbor are more and more tense. Everything is a pretext for dispute. The height of the fence which prevents access to the sun, the apple tree which is more and more leaning to grow against the fence, the foul smell of the fertilizer used. In an absurd revanchard momentum, she ended up planting theirs, as an apple tree, on their side, in their garden. Who too, tonight, made his first flowers.
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