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When I was little,

every night before going to sleep,

I'd hear the whistle of a train passing in the distance.

I imagined there was a strange world over there.

THE TRAIN

- Hi. - Hello.

- Thanks for coming. - No problem.

- How's she doing? - Not great.

Let's go have a look.

Again.

She's still wheezing a lot.

I'll give her an injection.

Get some rest, okay?

I love you.

You've been alone for too long.

I'm not all alone.

I have my daughter.

I have you.

You know what I mean.

Maybe later, when Agathe is older.

Do you talk to her about Philippe?

I tell her that we loved each other a lot.

I say that he went away on a trip and we lost track of each other.

She's a smart one.

She knows it's a mystery, but she doesn't press the issue.

She makes up her stories.

Vanished without a trace.

How can I explain that?

For Agathe, he's a mythical father, as though he wasn't even human.

I imagine him dead, or alive, in every situation possible.

And I like to think that if he's dead,

he keeps a watchful eye over her.

In Portuguese, there's a word for that.

Saudade.

It's a mixture of hope and nostalgia

for something that is impossible to have again.

Or something like that.

That's pretty much it.

The lumberjack is the guardian.

The guardian of what?

The guardian of the world we don't know.

Sometimes, he cuts down a tree next to the train tracks.

Do you see the train passing?

No, but I hear it.

Where does it go?

It crosses the border at the end of the forest.

The border to another country?

No.

The border between us and everything we don't know.

It's somewhere else.

Far away.

Sometimes I imagine I'm on the train.

Going to the other world.

Here.

I'll be right back.

- Hello. - Hello.

How's she doing?

A bit better today, but still not well.

- Do you have a moment to talk? - Of course.

Come into the living room.

Asthma is unpredictable.

There'll be good days and bad days.

She has allergies.

She has bronchial inflammation.

You can't let her get worn out or excited.

We'll keep her at home for a while.

School starts in a week.

If she misses too much, she might fail her grade.

But the kids at school run around at recess.

She can't get out of breath.

One more major attack and she'll end up in the hospital.

If I were you, I'd talk to the school

to see if she can do some home schooling.

She can go back in January.

"So I lived my life alone,

"without anyone that I could really talk to

"until I had an accident with my plane in the Desert of Sahara, six years ago.

"Something was broken in my engine.

"And as I had with me neither a mechanic nor any passengers,

"I set myself to attempt the difficult repairs all alone.

"It was a question of life or death for me:

"I had scarcely enough drinking water to last a week.

"The first night, then,

"I went to sleep on the sand,

"a thousand miles from any human habitation.

"I was more isolated than a shipwrecked sailor on a raft in the ocean."

The light in your eyes lingers

To chase the long winters from my mind

Beneath my skittish fingers

Everything would be mine in a moment

You were already in my memories

But the day that was to bring us together

Never came to pass

Without even knowing your name

I would have wasted the time

That was given to me

Following faithfully in your footsteps

As the day follows time

But you did not answer my call

You walked without turning to me

Like a bird darting through the air

Towards a closed horizon

You were lost in the landscape

And I stayed right here on this beach

Waiting faithfully to the end

For you to come

The bolts of silk aren't here yet?

No, the company said they were running late.

They'll be here in a few days.

You'll let the customers know?

- Of course, no problem. - Great, thanks.

I forgot about you!

She's so quiet.

Never seen, never heard.

- You're okay there? - Yes.

- Thanks again for allowing this. - No problem.

It's not the best for her, but at least I'm not worried.

I couldn't choose a better mascot.

I'll be in my office.

Majestic Fabric, reception and accounting.

No, the bolts are late.

There's been a shipping delay.

- Hi there, it's me! - Maurice!

I just found out that you're holed up here.

That's right, Agathe will do her schoolwork here with me now.

The school of life!

That's a great idea. There's much to learn here.

Come see.

I have your button order here, but the fabric samples will come later.

Okay, I'll be back.

No, I'll have them delivered. There's a lot.

It's fantastic here. Look.

We can string up some rope

and with some clothespins,

we can make a tent where you can hide.

I can disappear?

Yup.

Next time I come, I'll help set it up.

- How much do I owe you? - Wait, let me do it!

How much do I owe?

It's written there.

One dollar. How much change?

- Fifty cents. - Very good.

Good.

- Don't forget to close the till. - Thanks.

What are you doing tonight? Want to eat with us?

No, not tonight. Another time?

I'm staying in alone, relaxing and watching movies.

Hollywood, Hollywood!

Thank you. Very good service.

I'm off to the workshop.

I have a client who won't wait. Thanks, good day.

Majestic Fabric, reception and accounting.

So beautiful.

Why do people cut down trees?

For all sorts of reasons.

Sometimes because they're sick, or too old.

Or if they're a problem, if they block the road

or hide sight lines.

And sometimes it's to make boards to build houses.

Or paper to draw on.

Are they ever cut down for no reason?

Sometimes, yeah.

When we cut them, do they feel it?

If they're alive when we cut them, does it hurt them?

Hard to say.

I'd say that we don't really know.

Look, the moon is coming out.

- It's following us! - Yeah.

Agathe.

Agathe.

I'd like to have a dog.

We'll talk about it later, okay?

It's late, hop into bed.

Bye. Good night.

Good night, sweet dreams.

Buenas noches.

Gute nacht.

Buona notte.

Oyasuminasai.

Here, little kitten.

"She tried the little golden key in the lock,

"Alice opened the door

"and found that it led into a small passage,

"not much larger than a rat-hole:

"she knelt down and looked along the passage

"into the loveliest garden you ever saw."

A lovely story, my kitten, but can you read in your head?

I don't really like milk very much.

Here.

Go get yourself a soda. Okay?

Yeah.

Careful when you cross the street.

Agathe, slower please.

Kitten, you mustn't get excited.

Agathe, someone's there.

Thank you.

Hey, a cat!

- Hi there. - Hi.

Agathe, settle down, okay?

See this dress, it's shaped like the letter A.

It's called an A-line.

And this is called a circle skirt, because it's cut in a big circle.

Wake up.

We're going home to sleep.

Come.

Come, my little kitten.

I'm so happy you came.

Us too.

Good night, sweet dreams. See you again soon.

Will it be like this forever?

Hard to say. It depends on the patient.

Often it disappears during puberty,

but not always.

You have everything you need?

I'm out of pills for my nerves.

Feel free to take them when you're anxious.

It'll help you live a little.

And here's some codeine, if you need it.

Keep having a glass or two of vermouth before eating, to help with appetite.

- Call me if you need anything. - Thanks.

Good morning, marvel.

Maurice.

Thérèse went to run some errands.

Lucky me, it's Saturday and I don't work.

I can stay with you.

Feeling better?

Yeah.

I have a present for you.

It's a good luck charm.

Thanks, Maurice.

I really like him.

I didn't want to grow up.

I was fine the way I was.

I didn't want to change, I wanted that to be my whole life.

I liked staying at home with my mom.

I always wanted to be with her.

My little sister was the complete opposite.

All she wanted was to turn sixteen, so she could leave and live her life.

In the end, I'm the one who left.

Me too, I thought life began at sixteen.

I would sway in the living room, listening to music.

I was romantic.

I couldn't wait to kiss someone.

Sixteen comes fast, you know.

Time flies.

Who's the first person you ever kissed?

Your dad.

It was your dad.

I was so young.

We didn't know each other very well.

Did you like it?

Yeah, it was good.

You know, you never forget your first time.

I remember that I really liked it.

We were shy.

Your father leaned into me, very close.

I really hoped he would do it.

And then,

he kissed me on the lips, just briefly.

And I liked it so much, I said,

"Again, please."

And did he kiss you again?

Yes, a longer kiss.

Makes me want to try it.

Oh, you.

Enjoy being a child, take your time.

You know what?

When you see the person you want to kiss, you'll know it right away.

But that's later.

Like Maurice said, around sixteen.

That's a good age to kiss someone.

That's far away.

When I was little,

every night before going to sleep,

I'd hear the train whistle as it passed by the field close to our house.

I imagined there was a forest over there.

And a very tall man who cut down trees.

Jack.

I called him Jack.

Sometimes, I wandered further.

There, looking up at the sky,

I took in the immensity of the universe,

and understood how small I was within it.

I felt the presence of the dead who watched me.

Or maybe it was the gaze of the gods,

or goddesses,

or lost spirits.

Even now,

every time I hear a train whistle,

I see Jack,

the field and the forest.

And I'm back there.

But I'm no longer the child that I was.

I think of her as though she were someone else.

I wonder, if I was born elsewhere,

if I had another name, another body,

another story,

would I still be seeing these visions?

I wasn't sure it was you.

You look good dressed like that.

Thanks.

You're aging well, I find.

You're wearing a scent.

It's the scent of immortal flowers.

They look like a woman's hands.

I thought that too, this morning.

Do you ever get the feeling

that you want to be someone else?

I don't want to be someone else.

I want to be free.

I want to feel pleasure.

To imagine myself differently.

To transform myself as I wish,

when I wish.

That way, anything and everything is possible.

It's the same for you.

Your life belongs to you.

You can do whatever you like with it.

Otherwise, what's the point?

It depends, because some people take the position

- and I find it's an elitist position-

that we don't even want equality.

"Why be equal to a man? Being a man is not that great."

It's an intellectual position.

And I understand what they mean.

But for example, I can take this position

because what I have is more than equality.

But for most women, it's a faulty position to take,

and the first battle is seeking equality for them.

Being equal means having equal access

to all the jobs and responsibilities that men hold today.

I think that once women have attained these jobs,

they will not perform them in the same manner as men.

That's why I say that feminism is a true cultural revolution.

Because in the march of women, there is something extremely dynamic.

Something is changing.

It will change women and men,

it will change values and the world in which we live.

As a result, even if women attain certain positions,

the moment we attain equality, everything will change.

We don't even know if the same positions will exist.

What a beautiful gift. Thank you.

I thought the purple would suit you.

Purple is the colour of creativity, sensitivity.

The Catholic Church. Priests and bishops.

Original sin. Guilt.

Don't make fun.

Spirituality, above all.

Eternity.

You know, when I was little, my mom had a dress like this.

Almost the same colour.

She was daring, your mother.

I wish I'd known her.

She was an eccentric.

She wanted to travel and live large, but that didn't happen.

She got married and had a beautiful child.

She was melancholy.

She carried a sadness, like she knew her life would be short.

She would have made a splash in a dress like this, back then.

She never wore it.

- Did you keep it? - No.

When I inherited the house, I gave her clothes to my aunt.

I didn't want to live in the past.

She looked like you.

It's me who looks more and more like her.

It suits you really well.

Here. Just in case.

Just one drink, eh? No more.

Yeah.

Call if you need me, okay?

Yeah, don't worry.

I won't be out late.

Have a good night.

"It's only with our eyes that we choose who to hate and who to love.

"Only with our eyes do we weep when we weep.

"With his eyes, man has risen from his dark, infinite depths.

"With his eyes, man has come up to the surface of himself,

"has believed he can see others,

"has imagined that other men dispute his solitary omnipotence.

"It was when his eyes opened that truth,

"I mean falsehood, burst open,

"illusion invaded him,

"and the worst hallucinations began to seethe

"in his deep mountain of shadows."

Thérèse?

Agathe!

So nice to see you.

Thérèse didn't come?

No, she sends her regrets. You know her.

Right. She's a funny one.

Let me introduce you to Frank.

Agathe, Frank. He's just arrived.

- Hello. - Hi.

- Nice to meet you. - You too.

Are you performing tonight?

No, I'm just here to watch.

I'll be back.

It's my first time here at night when there's a big turnout.

Something to drink?

Sure.

"To cradle the day in the husk of your gaze,

"I need the breeze of absence

"and the echo of smooth distances."

Where are you from?

From far away.

Where do you live?

Not far.

I'm actually renting a space downstairs. But it's only temporary.

Are you leaving soon?

Yeah, pretty soon.

- What do you do? - I try to write.

What do you try to write?

Fantasy stories.

Like, science fiction on other planets and stuff like that?

Not necessarily on other planets, but in other worlds, yes.

Right now, I'm writing a story about a young Japanese woman

who lives in a futuristic city.

A child who will become immortal.

Why Japanese?

The Japanese are modern.

They aren't afraid of the future, or originality, or eccentricity.

They also have legends where the mountains, trees and animals

are inhabited by spirits.

The spirits can change shape,

they can appear and disappear.

All objects have a soul, and the soul is immortal.

That's beautiful.

I write a little bit too.

But I've never dared to show anyone what I've written.

Mostly, I read.

What do you read?

Everything I can. I read all the time.

I will sing a song with the words of Raymond Lévesque,

a man I admire.

Ah, the voyage

To distant shores

To uncertain dreams

How beautiful it is to voyage

It wipes away our tears and our dismay

My God, ah, the voyage

How wise you were

To give us

Give us these images

Because the voyage

Is the life we make

The fate we recast

How beautiful it is to voyage

And the world is new

It opens to our minds

Makes us see differently

And it sings

That life is well worth it

In spite of it all

Ah, young people

Take advantage of your youth

The world is there

Don't be afraid

It's not cruel

It will guide you

The voyage

That ripens our hearts

That opens us to happiness

How beautiful it is to voyage

And when we return home

Nothing is like before

Because our eyes have changed

And we are surprised

To see how our worries

Were so simple and small

Ah, the voyage

Turns a page

Sometimes the stories come from my dreams.

Or I stare into space and I have visions.

But they're so clear that I feel like I'm really there.

Like it's not me inventing these stories,

but someone else, in my place.

They're from elsewhere, like I pluck them from thin air.

Maybe that's what writing is.

Knowing how to capture stories.

I tell them to my mom, and she draws them.

She says I have a lot of imagination.

You're lucky.

Not necessarily.

Because it can go two ways.

We can imagine lightness, but also darkness.

You look like someone who imagines lightness.

Often, but not always.

- You okay? - Yes, and you?

Yeah. Everything alright?

Yeah.

It's like I already know you.

I must have had a dream about you.

Or maybe it's me.

Maybe I dreamt of you.

Wouldn't it be funny if we kissed?

Better than that.

Again, please.

It's so easy.

I have to go.

Already?

Yeah, or I'll miss the last bus.

Here, I'll give you my number.

Call me if you feel like it.

Okay, thanks.

- Good night. - Good night.

Mom?

Here, take another one.

Look at me.

It's like it's not working anymore.

I know it's not the right time, but cigarettes are a really bad idea.

I don't want you smoking.

I didn't smoke much.

Don't try to speak. We'll talk about it later, okay?

Your arm.

Agathe.

Try to get some rest, okay? Lie down.

That's the doctor. I'll be right back.

We missed you yesterday.

You know I never have anything to say to people.

"Hello."

"How are you? Fine."

That's all I know.

And yet you're so interesting.

Sure.

I must think so too, that's why I'm fine on my own.

I like solitude.

I'm always happy to get home to my studio.

Music.

Alcohol.

Melancholy.

Imagination.

I'm the opposite.

There's never enough time to see and experience everything.

People.

Art.

Travel.

Life.

I'll be gone before you're up. Make yourself at home.

Good night, sweet dreams.

Sweet broken heart.

Good night.

I'm lucky you're here.

Hello, heavenly apparition.

I'm happy to see you smile.

You look better this morning.

You gave your mom a scare yesterday.

It was like you were gone.

The doctor came.

He gave you a shot and some pills, do you remember?

Yes.

- You cried. - Yes.

I started breathing again.

It was like a miracle.

I'll stay here with you today.

Go back to sleep. I'll be here.

The tree was hollow and a bit slanted.

He was huge, with hands like stone.

He worked at the quarry.

One day there was an accident and he was killed.

Hello?

Hello, it's Agathe.

I was ill.

Not too bad.

I was thinking of you.

That's where I slept when I was little and stayed home from school.

Majestic Fabric, can I help you?

Mom, this is Frank. Frank, my mom, Thérèse.

He's the writer.

- Hello. - Nice to meet you.

Excuse me.

Nice to meet you.

Agathe tells me you're smart and you do interesting things.

He's writing a story that takes place in the future

about people who travel in time.

It'd make a good movie.

It would be cool if you drew a storyboard for him.

I've never made a storyboard before, but why not?

Frank will need to explain it to me.

Okay, I'm off to school.

See you!

Cigarette?

Sure.

Thanks.

So, you like movies?

The oceans are overflowing and the earth is quaking.

It's very hot. The air is hard to breathe.

The city is ravaged by war and drought.

And every day, the threshold of decency is crossed.

Michiko, nine years old, holds her mother's hand tightly.

Together, they flee through the crowd.

But where can they go?

Rumour has it that whole communities are now living underground, like ants.

They must find these people.

Their flight is halted by a man weeping on the sidewalk.

Before him lies the supine body of a woman covered with a white sheet,

her long black hair visible beneath it.

The man points to the open window of a tall building.

The women can no longer bear the violence.

The only way they have found to take a stand

is by sacrificing their lives.

They plunge into the void,

they slit their wrists, they step in front of trains.

"Michiko freezes in place, paralyzed by this vision of death.

"Her mother holds her close.

"They walk away, disappearing into the crowd.

"Later, the image of the body under the sheet

"will often come back to haunt her.

"Who was that woman, who chose the moment of her death?

"What had her life been like?

"Where was she from?

"Where had she gone?"

The air is different now.

Plants mingle with machines.

An adult now, Michiko lives underground.

She runs a bar.

It's in her bar that the journeys begin.

In the daytime, she walks outside.

She gathers plants to make her drinks.

She sleeps a lot.

She dreams.

What does she dream about?

I don't know.

I think that once we invent them,

the beings we imagine have their own existence.

Their dreams are their own.

How do the travellers leave?

She opens the bar at nightfall.

She fixes the drinks.

And each recipe leads to a different journey.

They let people travel infinite distances in a second,

to live elsewhere, if they want.

Another life in another time, in someone else's place.

Or they can choose to keep their own body

and invent a new story for themselves,

appearing and disappearing without leaving a trace.

And afterwards, when they return to the future?

A trip like that must cost a lot.

- There must be a price to pay. - Yes.

It costs a lot.

"When I'm there, I can feel the wind.

"I hear the tree branches cracking.

"Sometimes it's like time is running backwards.

"Things that were made are unmade.

"I walk in the forest as if I were beside the world.

"As though reality was ripped apart, and because of it,

"I can see elsewhere, the other side.

"The field appears and I am in it.

"Then it disappears and I come back.

"Time, both here and there, speeds up,

"and everything slips away."

Good night.

You can't sleep?

Again, please.

Stay with me.

Mom?

It's like I think too much.

Sometimes, I feel like I'm from another planet.

I can relate.

That's how I felt before I left France.

That's why I left.

When I was little, you said you'd always be there for me,

but that's not really true.

It's true for as long as I exist.

But one day, you won't exist anymore.

One day you won't either.

That's how it is, we come and we go.

We don't know where we come from or where we go.

We can never say forever, then.

No, never.

Where did you come from, apparition?

From elsewhere.

Where are you going, mirage?

I'd like you to stay.

I don't understand it all.

Do...

Do I exist?

Do you see the train passing?

No, but I hear it.

Where does it go?

It crosses the border at the end of the forest.

The border to another country?

No.

The border between us and everything we don't know.

It's somewhere else.

She tells me that every journey is unique.

Where we go in the past is left to chance.

And the more we travel, the harder it is to come back.

The stories become more complex.

We get attached to the people, to their lives.

I tell her about where I went,

about Thérèse, Agathe and the forest.

I tell her I met wonderful people there.

She says, "I know. I was there."