This unhurried show loosely linked fleeting moments of startling beauty – a crown of cut-up books, fluttering origami spiraling to the floor, an exaggerated ruff made of books masking a face, the slow see-sawing of a ladder.

Its experimental, improvised origins were apparent as acrobat Alice Allart dexterously manipulated books, tore and ate paper, and playfully hit Fabrice Dominici’s throbbing electric guitar strings with a hardback.

The set featured stacks of books and ladders lashed together, giving a vertical element to the performance: even when Allart descended to the ground from her slack rope, she threw down books as stepping stones to avoid touching the floor.

An intriguing samurai costume was revealed, then peeled off and abandoned, while some audience members sighed impatiently at the deliberately slow pace and silently mimed circus performance.

Ironically, because of the performers’ lack of audience-pleasing flourishes the first round of applause was for a man plucked from the crowd to steady a ladder.

A storyline had to be imagined by the audience – were we supposed to identify with the tippling librarian (Patrice Colet) who jabbed at the couple with garden shears?

The atmosphere was tense, and overall this surreal show seemed more anxiety-inducing than magical.