From that moment on, the idea of the voice, both mine and those of others, became an obsession.
A cardboard box, a cassette, a telephone, a radio : the decor is crumbling. The body is convalescing, unproductive, shut away from the world. From the back the room come murmurs, then snatches of words. But they aren’t people. They are the voices of the radio. For days, weeks, months, years, these voices will overcome loneliness and pain.