Here we are, already, now, at this moment, in this state of affairs,

in a state of evidence that keeps us on our feet and moving forward.

These beings are the latest to emerge from a liberated space.

From these heads escaped from the fire, the best of the tree remains a thought.

From this glass neck, another fragility and column between thought and materiality.

These beings are dressed in sacks of wheat, corn, bags of life at the service of our lives.

As with our lives, fill, empty, wear out, and with joy they are overturned and illuminated by the light.

The inner light that is given to every living being. These open bags, torn between the heart and the lower abdomen, right at the precise point from which strength springs.

It’s protected and filtered by a glass plate, a utensil they use to eat.

Take and be aware of our Food, essential to our Life. We are what we eat.

Finally, these beings stand on a pedestal that links them to the earth and to the work of men: a disc, an agricultural tool as a root.

Their outfit also has a few mirror-like spots; without being narcissistic, it’s the link, the correspondence like a lighthouse at the end of the pier.

These beings, my beings, have received everything, experienced everything; they only move forward in awareness of the essential, in serenity, austerity and a deep relationship with this inner light that is their only notion of healing. They’re out of that poor duality: beyond influence, beyond fear, beyond brokenness. Just an intense inwardness, a personality that drives them to be surely connected to others and to something else.

They are Dioms, half God, half Man. Simply exceptional beings of great wisdom.

They are in knowledge. Everything is within them, and it’s because they are Thems that they can be with others. They are in Transmission.

Poverty is the refuge in the Other, or the accusation of the Other.

They are Luminously Happy.

Together in the field, in the sound of the wind,

Near the Golden Bird Tree,

They are at peace.

B. Froment