I drive alone, at night, towards Champagne. I stop in Reims or Troyes; it is a rather miserable city, ugly, grey, but it has this charm of the novelty which I need so much. This impression of being lost, disoriented, of being an absolute stranger, therefore absolutely free. I also find a rather medieval district, more alive, very beautiful, and I feel like a tourist, like an adventurer a little bit too, it is extremely soothing and pleasant. I also find myself in a kind of family banquet, or perhaps communal, because there are many people. A small sunny midday in province. I walk along a stream, there is a bridge or a ford, perhaps a small waterfall, too, and an old man – the bonesetter, the old sage of the village. There is a very poor little girl, very dirty, who lies down fully clothed in a kind of trough, in town, to wash herself.
