The Tunisian born hero of the film decides to break with his disorganized yet habit-ridden life in Paris, and sets off to discover his homeland, which he left at 6 years old, and to rekindle the memory of his mother, who died when he was a child.
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35mm, rewatched. The passing time is the time that image fragments, like a sudden glimpse that vision brings to us, a lapse-movement with/in respiration, for the love of that vision, of its glances. Staging life's memory in every passing frame, passing with the time that breathes in. The first Gilles ever showed in Cinemateca(!), in a splenderous print. Is never too late for a film that exists on the verging of time.