At the foothills of the empire, people fish, cruise and pass time. Cigarette after cigarette, the world’s problems get sorted, smoking embers are stirred into flame. Across the way, the weather is beautiful and a lost paradise can be seen. Is it a mirage? People wend their way through the streets, calling out so as not to be alone when they’re afraid. They invite all and everyone into their tiny apartments so as to have people around them. People collaborate, botch jobs; that fills in two hours. Walking, talking, quickly, there’s not time to lose. People pick themselves up, fall down again. It’s lovely the way things fail. In haste, people try to be together. A former railroader who plunges into history, a teacher who spends the night looking for the police, an Afghan who hides, two quantum jobless men, a host with a moustache and his Eritrean wives… All these people cross paths, come into contact, avoid each other and their trajectories create a space where everyday life is constantly reinvented in a world that never stops collapsing. It is time to learn to be unreasonable: the whole world is passing through Calais.
