A man invites a woman to share his room in a hostel and gradually falls in love with her.

A famous docking : Algiers, the White City, in a radiant light. The picture darkens with a voice-over reading of the text of the surrender of the Dey of Algiers in 1830. "About the Conquest" confronts us with a page of the French national novel that was too hastily turned.

A famous docking : Algiers, the White City, in a radiant light. The picture darkens with a voice-over reading of the text of the surrender of the Dey of Algiers in 1830. "About the Conquest" confronts us with a page of the French national novel that was too hastily turned.

A famous docking : Algiers, the White City, in a radiant light. The picture darkens with a voice-over reading of the text of the surrender of the Dey of Algiers in 1830. "About the Conquest" confronts us with a page of the French national novel that was too hastily turned.

A famous docking : Algiers, the White City, in a radiant light. The picture darkens with a voice-over reading of the text of the surrender of the Dey of Algiers in 1830. "About the Conquest" confronts us with a page of the French national novel that was too hastily turned.

A famous docking : Algiers, the White City, in a radiant light. The picture darkens with a voice-over reading of the text of the surrender of the Dey of Algiers in 1830. "About the Conquest" confronts us with a page of the French national novel that was too hastily turned.

Lunettes and Myope: two ways of resisting the world. Identical and opposites, face to face or, more often, back to back, in a small room in a timeless space. Twins and adversaries, these two girls make one: Lunettes uses her glasses to help her understand the world, or at least accept it; Myope can't see, except within herself, and lost in her blurred, but sharp, experience of the world, rebels continuously. Incited by Lunettes, Myope creates (in the same city and climate, but in another dimension) two characters: Pierrot and Agathe. To a certain degree, these two are a disjointed response to Myope, Lunettes, neighbors, and distant representatives. It's very hot. The inhabitants are interested in fountains and shadows. They build cool cabins, hanging curtains over the balcony balustrades. Asphalt sticks to the soles of sandals and when the wind blows, the canopies flap above the café terraces.

Lunettes and Myope: two ways of resisting the world. Identical and opposites, face to face or, more often, back to back, in a small room in a timeless space. Twins and adversaries, these two girls make one: Lunettes uses her glasses to help her understand the world, or at least accept it; Myope can't see, except within herself, and lost in her blurred, but sharp, experience of the world, rebels continuously. Incited by Lunettes, Myope creates (in the same city and climate, but in another dimension) two characters: Pierrot and Agathe. To a certain degree, these two are a disjointed response to Myope, Lunettes, neighbors, and distant representatives. It's very hot. The inhabitants are interested in fountains and shadows. They build cool cabins, hanging curtains over the balcony balustrades. Asphalt sticks to the soles of sandals and when the wind blows, the canopies flap above the café terraces.

Through my window-camera, during urban adventures, views of Algiers, where, as a child, after Algerian Independence, I learned about liberty, and which some decades later after immigrating against my will and deliberately becoming an exile, I chose as my city. I was then a "wife of the Republic of Madagascar," as the left-hand side page of my passport noted, while the right-hand side declared "of the ambassador extraordinary and plenipotentiary." Disembodied, words off-screen, intervening one over the other, simultaneous encounters of polyphonic voices glide.

Through my window-camera, during urban adventures, views of Algiers, where, as a child, after Algerian Independence, I learned about liberty, and which some decades later after immigrating against my will and deliberately becoming an exile, I chose as my city. I was then a "wife of the Republic of Madagascar," as the left-hand side page of my passport noted, while the right-hand side declared "of the ambassador extraordinary and plenipotentiary." Disembodied, words off-screen, intervening one over the other, simultaneous encounters of polyphonic voices glide.