Don't you see anything coming? No, all I see is the sky growing red and clouds of dust over the path. From a watchtower in Ardèche, two female friends watch for the smoke that inexorably draws closer. But they are also on the lookout internally. What do we see when we don't know how to name or declare things? Memories rise up, situations of domestic violence are evoked. It would be simple if we could spot them like we spot the smoke which begins to burn a forest.