It was at the library, one that hasn't yet burned down, that I met Gilles, then Eric, or maybe the other way round; tousled hair, clothes from another era, plastic bags in hand, their look impossible to ignore, and not just by me it seems. Everyone in Corbeil-Essonnes seems to know "the twins", which is nonsense since nobody actually knows them, as strange as their jumpers, but those few brave souls who approached them were struck by their insatiable artistic curiosity and dizzying rock culture; they were generous enough to let me into their life for the length of my residency, met as they were moving house, emptying one identical flat to refill another, letting me photograph almost everything I wanted until, after nearly a year together, reciprocal trust and attachment settled in, the twins turning imperceptibly from subjects into complicit models, while in parallel I photographed the town itself, empty fragments of it, as though sets not yet struck after a drama just played out.