Ingrid Caven


“But who was that lonely boy, black leather jacket, she saw him from behind all quiet in a corner, huddled and closed in on himself with his head down, facing the wall, close to the counter of the bar at that poor little theater that often turned back into a cinema? He seemed to sense everything round him, even behind him, as though it all flowed through him. Animal! And he made it obvious, you could feel him listening, hear him listening, as though he watched with his ears, listened with his shoulders, with his whole body, head to foot. ‘I was intrigued. Even from behind, keeping silent, he seemed to be spying on me, not missing a single gesture.' It's some guy who says he wants to make films”*

*Jean-Jacques Schuhl, “Ingrid Caven”, City Lights Books