It’s an ascending dance. Colorful currents against gray backgrounds. Individual bodies clinging to brave, technological kites. It’s an ascending dance. The waters ripple with every touch of the board, becoming liquid trampolines, liquid landing strips. All is silent in this anonymous lake mirror, all is rhythm and hypnosis. Some men dance suspended in mid-air, their bodies twisting and stretching on natural notes, releasing elegance, physical strength, artistry. Their lives are unknown. They may be musicians or financiers, architects or civil servants, but on this stage they play a very specific role: the role of performers. Performers for themselves. Performers for the scattered cars that pull the handbrake a few meters from shore, ready to be enchanted by this sweet, spontaneous choreography. It’s an ascending dance. Muscles tense on abstract thoughts. Evolutions and tricks painting the leaden winter canvas. It’s an ascending dance. It’s the dance of kiteboarding.