— Its time is long. It beckons like the tangible marker of the percolation of perspectives. A kind of thick threshold...
— But what are you talking about?
— An intermediate space, to be read as one would decipher a map.
— I love maps.
— Me too. But here, a desire for exhaustiveness would quickly be exhausted.
— It's like an interlude that never ends?
— Yes, a transitional space that one cannot fully grasp.
— Accepting not understanding everything?
— Being aware that the combinations are countless.
— Should one choose certain ones? Or simply let oneself float indefinitely in this endless space?
— Photography captures one possible version. One must undoubtedly have wandered for a long time to arrive at what is right in certain places. Sometimes one succeeds.
— Framing, capturing, extracting when one has sufficiently inhaled the essence of the potential. As if one had to grasp, experience the spirit of the place before taking a single moment of its time.
— Yes, and then comes the pleasure, that of offering this temporal fragment to the gaze of those who were not there.
— Do we think about the reception when we photograph? Is that the goal?
— I believe that the image is autonomous; it does not belong to its author. It follows its own path, with or without reception. The public does not condition the photographic act. What conditions it is rather the tender relationship one creates with the time and space of the shot.

— To embrace tenderness, to experience duration?
— Yes, there is tenderness because the apprehension of time is fully felt.
— To be in time, could that be the photographic act?
— Yes, to be in…
— I have the impression that in this tenderness, others also populate us. We are not truly alone when we create, when we press the shutter.
— A kind of dissolution of the self and an almost collective energy.
— A sense of shared experience, far removed from a sharp edge of subjectivity or the epigraph of my singularity.
— To photograph would be to create a dialogue that forges a link between two entities belonging to the same space-time…

Excerpt from a dialogue freely inspired by several months of correspondence between Cloé Carbonare and Luc Adolphe, reproduced in its entirety in the book "Patine".