Josée Leybaert in the time of the light, there fires which exalt themselves, there deep tapestries, by whole sections the cerulean night or the midday of the day, without tiredness of new landscapes and we tremble of so much audacity, we are happy and blinded, a cadence beats under the nappé of the colour, swells and crowds, vibrating harmonies, gardens of the festival...

François Emmanuel, 2011, « Jardins éblouis »