Here comes Louise Coleman, thirty, vivacious, and dreamy, not really adapted to the world around her.
Let’s observe three key moments in her life centered around her relationship with cars.
How she learned to drive, deciding to acquire an autonomy of movement that would allow her to at last establish a necessary distance between herself and her companion and child.
How, equipped with this new license, she discovered that getting about wasn’t as easy as expected, the day when she found herself alone in the huge parking lot of a rural mall, with no money or cellphone, locked outside her car.
How she then plunged back into memories of childhood moments when she was alone with her mother in a car. Reassured by the maternal cocoon of the car, she was a passenger transported without a care, without expectations, without loneliness.
Louise basked in her mother’s aura, her femininity, and melancholy. Nothing was too serious back then.