I am collecting beautiful objects.
A pair of shoes. Some glasses. Telephone. Typewriter.
They are made from wool and felt. With apparent stitches. Their delicate, unfinished appearance is friendly. And they are quiet.
Stephanie made them and I will expose them in an exhibition.
“Stephanie, do you think I could take the red blanket, this one?”
“Of course, Stéphane, are you kidding?”
There’s this amazing blanket. It’s thick red felt with big white stitches. Wild animals are running on it.
I bend over a rock to try to reach her. And my stomach compress. Hurts.
“Stephanie, can you hold my hand? I cannot sleep.”
She takes it. I fall asleep.
– Michel Gondry, The Science of Sleep (2006)