Fermes tes jolis yeux

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In a village in Belgium, the earth opens up, letting out the voice of a man, a stone worker. His fingers sculpt and carve, but the flashes of stone stop at the walls of a small workshop attached to his house. Each blow of his chisel rips a piece of history, of conscience, of struggle into oblivion. Meanwhile, not so far from his workshop, the quarry, without age, without memory, advances, devours the surrounding houses, the streets, the town, the roots...