This piece, framed by sight and sound, is an (un)written essay on repetition, memory, rhythm, and marks made by the passage of time. The authorship condenses at once in the music, the initial creation, and then in the movement of the image, created with the memory of music spooling out in the silence of a train through the Rhône-Alpes. The result, an attempt— une tentative —a temptation, marks moments of feeling kept aloft through seeing what was once heard and marking (...) the passage of thought through memory's repetition. Do we remember what we listened to when we see what we saw when we listened? What remains calls back. Are you still there? Responding to thoughts, memories arise with rhythmic pulses in a mute endeavor. The voice we answer evaporates as we turn to greet it. We can replay but not repeat. We repeat without reporting, calling up a memory— une histoire —repeatedly, searching the scene. Each time new evidence, new non-evidence, new absence. Sight and sound. A parting with no meeting. Tentatively embracing the past, a passing memory in the present, big with its future. Its flowing rhythm that we take apart and keep a part of imparts a reminiscence which shapes as it passes, always departing. We think directly as the activity of memory marks the tempo. Interrupting our thoughts in their repetition, memory ignites with the slightest sound, smell, touch. A synaptic explosion which reshapes our memory of how we once thought, if we thought. Perhaps we only felt, but reflection impresses it upon present thought. Once, we have thought—or at least that is how I remember it, how you told me about it. (shrink)