Marie-Violaine Brincard

French poet Thierry Metz killed himself in 1997. He'd moved to the country with his wife and 3 kids but after the youngest is struck dead by a car, the sensitive artist sinks into depression and alcohol, leading to time in a facility.

Théo, Lucie, Louisette, Hervé or Benjamin find themselves for months in the Charcot pavilion, in the psychiatric center of Cadillac. Through their exchanges and the way they inhabit the daily life, they express the ordeal of confinement as well as the fantasy that animates them. Their painful or comical escapes invite us to go beyond the walls that imprison them.

High in the mountains of the Pamirs lies Lake Bulunkul and the village of the same name, one of the coldest inhabited places in the former Soviet Union. Mountains, a plain, a herd of yaks. Time has seemingly stood still here. Survival in this inhospitable landscape indeed depends on sensitivity to weather fluctuations and changes in nature.

From April till July 1994, in Rwanda, a few Hutu resist to the genocidal terror and decide to shelter and to save Tutsi. Today, in spite of symbolic attempts of recognition, they are always marginalized: traitors for some people and potential killers for others. Joseph, Joséphine, Léonard, Augustin and Marguerite tell how, at the risk of their life, they hid Tutsi and helped them to escape. Their words resound then in the places where they resisted, from the hills of Nyanza to the shores of the lake Kivu, and thus, they make us sensitive to the humanity that they have shown.