Jonathan Millet

Over there, in his village at the foot of the mountains, he’s dead. His face radiant and his body at peace, he lies on the bed. Then they can gather around him. Three days long they talk, drink, weep, fight and remember… And they smile, too.

Over there, in his village at the foot of the mountains, he’s dead. His face radiant and his body at peace, he lies on the bed. Then they can gather around him. Three days long they talk, drink, weep, fight and remember… And they smile, too.

They are those whose margin is territory, those who go without being seen. They are illegal and speak a thousand languages. Simon arrives to Paris and follows in their footsteps. Discovering the depth of the city to find the one he is looking for.

They are those whose margin is territory, those who go without being seen. They are illegal and speak a thousand languages. Simon arrives to Paris and follows in their footsteps. Discovering the depth of the city to find the one he is looking for.

Blocked in Ceuta, a Spanish enclave in the North of Morocco, 5 emigration candidates—from Cameroon, Somalia, Chad, and India—are waiting. They are only 14km from the Iberian Peninsula but they wonder whether they’ll be allowed to make it to Europe or if they will be deported back to their country.

At the fair, Zoé and Léo are watching the last summer lights disappearing. Zoé smiles, but her eyes are sad. Léo acts tough, but he’s about to leave and go far away, and they both know it.