Set in waiting, the scenography of Intervalle turns Byblos airport into a suspended purgatory: a hundred square metres of stage where several travellers cross paths without ever leaving.
The glowing gothic arches carry the names of the cities of the journey — Carthage, Rome, New York. They are boarding gates to nowhere; their orange light, mixed with smoke, evokes both the warmth of a lost home and memory smouldering.
Classical reliefs populate the walls like the ghosts of vanished civilisations. The airport benches rest on human feet carved from rough stone: they speak of the human still walking, while everything around collapses.
