It was an ocean of adventure and full of obstacles and sea monsters probably. All that disappeared when I set foot on the cable. But it was not a surprise. It was not a new condition. I said I never thought about the walk. Maybe I thought about the walk all along, without psychologically realizing I was thinking about the walk. So when I found myself on the wire, facing the wire, one foot on the wire, one foot on the building, and ready to decide to shift my weight to become a bird, to become a wire walker on that wire, it was not something new. It was something that I know I belong to, something that, as opposed to the ocean of hazards, was something simple.

The wire is a safe place for me to be. The street is not. Life is not. It's a rigorous and simple path. It's straight. You don't have meanders like, you know, on the ground, in life. There are no obstacles, no red lights, no bad guys, no politicians, no representative authorities with uniforms. You suddenly -- And there is no life. There is something much more supreme than life. There is carrying one's life across -- Not chancing it, because I'm really not somebody who is ready to play with life, mine or the one of the building or others. But I was finally finding myself living, because I had now opened the door to living on the edge, living the only place where it's worth living, which is fully, and grabbing my life and carrying my life across. It's the most beautiful profession in the world.