Collection Petites Planètes presents
LA FAUTE DES FLEURS
a portrait of Kazuki Tomokawa
a film by Vincent Moon
produced by Naohito Koike
images by Vincent Moon
sounds by Gaspar Claus
story by Teresa Eggers
edit by Vincent Moon & Lucas Archambault
shot in Tokyo and Osaka
in february/march 2009
winner of the CPH-DOX 2009 sound&vision award
cphdox.dk/
more infos vincentmoon.com/ kazukitomokawa.com
Kazuki Tomokawa appears on the french video podcast ‘A Take-Away Show #98‘. –
Produced by Naohito Koike
Filmed and edited by Vincent Moon
Sounds by Teresa Eggers
Mix by Gaspar Claus –
Shot in Osaka, Japan, February 2009
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Part 1 :
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‘Umi Mitaina Sora Da’
‘A Story About Swallowing a Star ‘ with Masato Nagahata
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‘A story about swallowing a star’
Lyrics: Taruho Inagaki / Additional lyrics, Music : Kazuki Tomokawa
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One evening on the balcony
A white-ish object fell from the sky
When I put it my mouth
It tasted like calcium
Later, I awoke on the pavement
Yellow windows empty in the moonlight
Empty and laughing scornfully
While thinking over what it all meant
Out of nowhere I was thrown to the floor
And from my mouth
Flew something like a star
Dragging its tail over the roof it soared
Dragging its tail over the roof it soared
Until at last I could see the star no more
I had surely swallowed a star
I had put a bullet in a gun
Aimed it at the dead-centre
Of the pitch black sky and pulled the trigger
And suddenly a US Stars and Stripes sky
And suddenly a US Stars and Stripes sky
Flapped and fluttered overhead
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Translation: Alan Cummings
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Part 2 :
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‘Pistol’ with Masato Nagahata and Gaspar Claus
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‘Pistol’
Lyrics / Music : Kazuki Tomokawa
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There is a pistol on the table
The final breath of overgrown thistle
is surely inside myself
Can’t count on the sky, nor a finger
The green, or light, was standing there
I just blindly embraced it
I am still standing
in the wind that reveals absence
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Is it loaded or not?
Does the time come or not?
It’s nice to be against war,
but isn’t that to be against human?
It’s always pointed at the face
It’s the same here and there
I say “What the hell,”
but can’t count on the sky, nor a finger
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There is a pistol on the table
There is a pistol on the table
Is it a promised flower?
Is it the weight of betrayal?
There is a pistol on the table
The final breath of overgrown thistle
is surely inside myself
Can’t count on the sky, nor a finger
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Translation: Alan Cummings
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Part 3 :
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‘The god is crying in the well’
‘Pigment Sky’ with Gaspar Claus