From the airtight held breath of Benoit Arcand: (Translated by the crackling campfire of Odile Leclerc)

In the semi-darkness, a barely phosphorescent mirage, Nimbes imposes without intrigue the iridescence of its presence. No need for a campfire near a beach cabin, young and mournful: here everything crackles around your head, licks your cheek like a wave of heat. Instead make yourself a sarong from these pyramidal keyboards, plant yourself on this homeopathic surf and caress this abyssal groove.

Don’t forget to shine in the night.