SWEEPING. Sweeping is naming and outlining my everyday life, refusing to forget my personal space. It is the pleasure of making clean, to be in a place defined by the absence of dust and of waste. Between ritual and discipline, sweeping is a support for reflection and, sometimes, a way of distancing oneself. Being concentrated and methodical, like a sportsman, aiming for cleanliness.

TOMB. Standing, on the edge of the hole we haven’t dug, we always leave before the soil has been replaced. On the coffin of my loved ones, I will lay the earth.

TRAVEL. Pathways, streets, roadways, regions, countries, by car, by train, by plane, to walk, watch, work and love.

WAR. Crushed, wounded bodies torn to shreds. Today, lines of crosses in the cemeteries and still bodies lying in the ground of war.

WASHING. Rubbed water, carrying the dirt to the bottom of the sink.

WASTELAND. At the foot of the old town of Lublin, and at the edge of the Catholic cemetery: two large open spaces, not quite enclosures, not quite zones of transit. Two wastelands. The old Jewish neighbourhood, gone. The big Jewish cemetery, gone.

WATER. When the water no longer runs in the streams, the mountain is sad.

WHITE. The countryside is white, the town is white, the forest is white, the mountain is white. With its great white blanket, Poland is white.

WINE. At thirty five years of age, my wine trail: Muscadet, Savennières, Quart de Chaume, Coteaux du Layon, Bonnezeaux, Coteaux de l’Aubance, Saumur-Champigny, Chinon, Vouvray, Jasnières, Quincy, Sancerre, Châblis, Gevrey-Chambertin, Chambolle-Musigny, Pommard, Volnay, Chassagne-Montrachet, Mercurey, Margaux and Port.

WORDS. The act of naming marks my territory more clearly, my everyday space where the right words (mots propres), like tools, define themselves by use and modify themselves with age. Clean words (mots propres) and frequently dirty hands, to be with oneself, faraway from abandoned ground.

WORK. Buffing, clearing, cleaning, dusting, filming, mopping, naming, photographing, protecting, rinsing, rubbing, scouring, scraping, skating, sponging, sweeping, tidying, throwing, washing, waxing, wiping. I want to rest.

WORKSHOP. This everyday space: I’ve scoured, scraped, swept, washed, waxed, buffed. An enclave of cleanliness. Now, beneath my feet, the workshop parquet is already at the limit of dirtiness and neglect.

ZEN. Wipe the table, wash the dishes, sweep the settings, turn off the gas…