www.youtube.com/watch?v=1bSPNboKCzM

A love story set between two terrorist attacks that seem almost personal - or technically, it's a story about two loves, both of which end, one of them after a long time, about five people in two different triangles... but it's one love story, a trauma of heartbreak forcing the narrator to look at everything that makes her her. At times melodramatic (but never cheaply so), at others completely physical ... Bouraoui seems incapable of not getting under my skin.

I don't know if happiness is one, indivisible, large, extensive and unique, or if consists of poetic shards - the smell of grass after rain, the first day of summer, a field of poppies, a late autumn sky, a blue luminous glacier, the certainty of being part of a whole that gets on with one and the same power, loves with one and the same love. I don't know if you can measure, decide the amount of happiness. If you can grip it like an object, hold it tightly, stop it from falling.