It is as taken in the blow of wind, the gust, and that we look for a stone to pose on the papers which already fly away, to retain them, desperation. Everything flies away. I felt this blow of wind and I tried to gather these papers which risked to fly away. In search of Henri Calet, the me walks and gets lost in Paris. Calet is not the subject of the documentary, he is the documentary, the breath, the rhythm, the influence. The me walks with Calet. To find Calet, it is to adopt his glance.