We were in those baths, dived in an unknown space, as private as public. We meddled ourselves there like intruders. Coming back, it was necessary to save this powerful moment, a deep transformation was made. Interior. Impossible to take a picture, we were naked, alone together. We had to live, see and feel it. The steam, the women, in their space, the zenithal light, the stones. The intensity of the moment stayed the same and created a cornerstone, like the center of the trip, now, all the events evolves around this one. A visit to the Djvari monastery, a meal, they come around this passage at the sub-terrain baths. The sulfur, its smell that sticks on our skin going out, wet hair that don’t dry, the august humid air. This sulfur odor stayed. Make images then, to mark, point, fix. Prevent the disappearing of this sensation. The body being spread out infinitely. We were only skin, shaken, rubbed by expert hands, one after the other on the slippery marble. The members lost their sense, everything is limb, soft, malleable. Like clay in which she would dig her hands to create a new form. How to find this sensation of abandonment again?