Here a wish is murmured. A probe launched into space leaving in its wake a golden parabola. Her intention stated, the passer-by – does she already know she is a passer-on? – reaches the temple of speech, a kind of tellurian camera obscura. Totems are raised in an augural circle. Dynamos spin. An attraction is in play. Will it take effect? Within these walls, we are counting on depth. Straight in line with the pillars and body, here is the top, the bottom, rumour... Scansion, infinite tone. In waves, the choir iridesces the opaque air, unveiling, reconnecting, like the old Soul of the world, our woven voices. No doubt they must be tamed in the depths of calm; and meaning must be restored to the words from the sky. A votive noosphere is revealed, transcoded into the vault by undulating glimmers. This journey must be opened. The intimate energy of a secret will has shown its wild side. Distant intimacy in this cloud of voices where, by some phonemancy – what of the divination of voices? Is it interpreted by all the others? – or a subtle attention to resonances, unhoped-for possibilities of self-surpassing are offered: rootedness, harmony, alignment, fit, trajectory, reconciliation, vibratory inwardness. Everyone here is called on to take charge of the living meaning of these words. Such is the invitation issued to the subject ready to bare itself, to recognise itself as it is destined to be: a harmonics of giving. Text by Jean-Philippe Gagnon and Julia Stern