Were you sleeping?
Yes.
Did you dream?
I dreamed that…
I was sleeping under a pine tree…
in the undergrowth.
They told me…
I may never walk again.
Some men hope to go down in history.
But some of us prefer to disappear into the landscape.
Keep going!
Fucking shit!
- Bye. - Bye, have a nice day.
Tell me what you think.
What is it?
An article on The Empty Diagonal.
What'll you do with it?
Walk it.
Why not write about your accident?
Your body's been on a journey.
I see what you mean. I'm going to write.
While I walk.
Like I always have.
I'm going to start here,
in the Mercantour park in the southeast, and walk to the Massif Central.
Then I'll head northwest across the Loire
towards the Channel,
the cliffs of La Hague
to the sea.
Pierre, that's mad, you do realize that?
You're still on crutches.
You came here via the elevator, not the window.
I'm going crazy here.
I've never been to the Cantal.
But why now?
I don't want you ending up at the bottom of a ravine!
- I know what I'm doing. - You do?
Don't say that to me, please. You know what you're doing!
It's over 1,000 kilometers.
1,300.
KILOMETER 17 IN THE ROYA VALLEY
My salvation lay in movement, and movement would be my prayer.
If I completed my journey, I would achieve redemption.
I wanted to take the hidden paths.
Through the undergrowth, along paths linking abandoned villages.
MERVEILLES VALLEY MERCANTOUR MASSIF
It was still possible to cross France using a map,
if you accepted detours and forced your way through.
Far from roads,
there existed a shady France, safe from the din.
A countryside of rowan trees and barn owls.
It was that time of night when my backbone cried for mercy.
20 years scaling ridges to end up walking like an old lady.
Three days walking on scree had wrecked my back.
Why wreck my body walking north across a country in ruins?
Luckily, I knew the sanctuary of my being,
the freedom of the mountains and a forest beneath the stars.
- Hello. - Hi.
I heard you had cheese.
- Can I buy some? - Yes.
Follow me, I keep it cool inside.
You can try the cow's-milk one.
Thanks.
If you want it to keep…
this one's better.
- Fine. - Isn't it hard walking alone?
No.
- How much? - 5 euros, please.
Thanks.
Have this one for free.
Have you lived here long?
Nearly two years now.
We used to live near Montpellier.
- Do you know it? - Yes.
- You walking the path? - Not exactly.
Most people we see are lost.
- Tourists don't come here. - I'm not lost.
Need a bed for the night?
I've a way to go yet.
- OK. - Right.
Thanks.
Thank you.
- Bye. - Bye.
I heard gunshots last night.
Gas guns, to scare the wolves.
- Seriously? - Yes.
Got water?
Yes.
There's a spring out back.
- I'm good, thanks. - OK. Safe trip.
But things took a turn for the worse.
Men multiplied…
became industrious, concreted over the land,
occupied the valleys.
They colonized the plateaus, killed gods and wild animals.
They unleashed their offspring
and their genetically-engineered herbivores.
One day, 30 years ago, wandering through the Abruzzo…
the wolf returned to the Mercantour.
Now they protect their herbivores
from the wild animals who belong here.
If I was a wolf, I'd think:
"Progress? What a farce!"
KILOMETER 45 BARRES DE L'ILLION
Shit.
What an idiot!
Space.
It gives succour to those willing to kneel before a map.
You open it,
and it reveals its secret passages.
I dreamed of creating the brotherhood of the Wandering Paths.
Not content with offering a network of byways,
the paths were an escape from the times.
Fuck!
"There are two kinds of men," said Napoleon.
KILOMETER 102 VAR VALLEY
"Those who command and those who obey."
Today, wringing out my socks on a muddy riverbed in the Var…
I think the Emperor…
forgot about a third type.
Men who run away.
"Sire," I'd have said to him,
"Running away is commanding."
At least it's telling fate it has no hold over you.
Excuse me, do you have a light?
Yes.
Thanks.
KILOMETER 138 BRAUX VILLAGE SQUARE
Thanks.
Will you swap me the paper?
Sure, but there isn't much in it.
- Except 5G, maybe. - 5G, yes.
I don't see what it will change.
They say it'll create jobs.
People who move here want broadband
before asking about schools.
- Neo-rurals? - Exactly.
Then they complain about the rooster!
- Like a drink? - No, thanks all the same.
I know who you are.
You're that writer who's crossing France.
I saw an article in the paper the other day.
They said you'd had an accident.
Sorry to ask, but what happened?
- I didn't mean to embarrass you. - No, it's fine.
No, I…
I slipped.
Slipped?
I fell.
And are you going to write about your fall?
Yes.
Yes…
And on its benefits.
My mother died as she had lived, leaving us in the lurch.
And I had fallen off a roof where I was clowning around, drunk.
I fell from a window ledge and smashed to the ground.
8 meters was enough to break my ribs, my vertebrae, my skull.
I'd fallen onto a pile of bones.
I'll long regret that fall: back then,
I had a physical machine that allowed me to live to the full.
I aged 50 years in 8 meters.
But I had recovered the use of my legs. I couldn't give up.
I had regained what mattered:
the right to get the hell out
and meet the fiancée who never disappoints:
freedom.
Being in the open air was my fate.
A few more thousandths…
of a millimeter…
would have paralyzed me…
and I would have been denied…
that privilege.
Spending my life…
in a wheelchair…
would have reduced me…
to taking…
a 9mm…
and sticking it in my mouth.
- I love what you do. - Thank you.
Thanks.
- Hello. - Hello.
- Thanks, have a nice day. - Thanks.
- Hello. - Hello.
- For… - Anna.
Can I ask you something?
Of course.
What did you miss most in your hut?
What did I miss most in my hut?
Maybe a good whisky and a few Honduran cigars.
But most of all I missed you.
Sorry.
Thank you.
KILOMETER 209 GANAGOBIE ABBEY
Here, say a prayer for someone.
It was the first time my scarred face had elicited such compassion.
My fall had left me deaf in one ear,
and I often lost my balance.
My sense of smell was shot,
and I no longer inhaled Provence's heady breath,
the acridness of the rockrose
and the hot limestone that smells of light.
This is your room, it's small but conducive to meditation.
Prayers and meals are at these times.
"I will make of you a great nation, and you will become a blessing.
"I will deny those who deny you.
"Whoever curses you, I will reprove him.
"In you will be blessed all the families of the earth.
"Abram went as the Lord had told him.
"Abram was seventy-five years old
"when he departed Haran.
"He took his wife Sarai, his nephew Lot,
all the goods he had acquired."
Saint Peter welcomes others to this monastery.
Are you sensitive to the spirituality of living stones?
Yes.
I believe it's the highest spiritual experience possible through matter.
30 years ago, I touched this stone
and knew I'd stay here all my life.
Come on!
- All set. - OK.
Pierre!
- Pierre, I can't see you! - You will!
I can't go any further.
Yes, you can, come on.
- Where are you? - Take a break.
When you go again, push with your toes.
Super.
Very good, my love.
There.
Over time, my strength returned through the rhythm of my steps.
KILOMETER 239 LURE MOUNTAIN
Healing is a plant-like process.
Health distributes itself in the body like sap.
It spreads out…
irrigates everything…
and you're cured.
KILOMETER 310 SÉGURET VILLAGE
In Séguret, I stayed with a dear aunt who welcomed me like a mother.
Yes?
Please, dear lady,
just a few coins to comfort a poor railroad man.
Pierre?
Pierre, is that you?
How did you know?
- Your voice. - I changed it!
Sure!
I didn't know you were near here.
Come in, it's open.
Oh, I opened a bottle without thinking, I'm stupid.
No, why?
Alcohol is innocent, only the drunkard is guilty.
- Where are you at with it? - It's over.
At least, I hope so.
I went to rehab.
One drink and I'm dead.
You OK?
The last few months have been hard.
I can't get used to her being gone.
Obviously, seeing you shook me up a little.
But I'm glad you're here.
I'm not used to family reunions.
Then I'm all the happier you came.
Absence makes the ideas stronger.
But that…
- That's not bad, either. - No, it's not.
Béatrice was very proud of you, darling.
She said so often.
You must stop worrying.
What's odd about that photo is that…
I feel I'm protecting her.
Whereas in life, it was the opposite.
She was so strong.
You have a hammock?
Your mother gave it to me.
When she came back from Brazil.
- I'll sleep in it. - But…
I've made up the second-floor room.
My motives for battling the countryside numbered in their dozens.
But the real reason for my escape
was contained in a screwed-up piece of paper at the bottom of my bag.
My darling,
I'm writing this on the banks of the Nile, near the Hammadi dam,
150 kilometers from Luxor.
Your father and I are so glad you got your high school diploma.
I can't wait to hug and congratulate you.
The sun also greets you, beautiful child.
It's so magnificent. If only you could see it.
Your father's taking photographs.
Perhaps one or two will come out.
He's striving again to put beauty in a box.
It's so much better to look.
The suffering is finally over, my darling.
I am so relieved for you.
Your life has just begun.
I know it will be long and wonderful.
Beautiful as you are…
no winding path, no unreachable summit…
no fierce Amazon will dare resist you.
You will walk ahead.
We'll run after you.
The adventure will be beautiful.
Your life will be splendid!
The gods had long indulged the family.
They had immersed us in their kindness.
Perhaps they keep watch on some of us, like in fairy tales.
- How is it? - OK.
Their smiles turn to grimaces.
I now had to honor the oath I made when in agony.
Constrained to my bed, I said, almost aloud:
"If I survive, I'll cross France on foot."
I saw myself on stony paths.
I had dreamed of bivouacs, of striding through the long grass.
The dream always faded when the door opened:
it was time for stewed fruit.
Sir?
Are you OK?
Are you OK, sir?
Are you OK?
- Want to get up? - Yes.
Hold on, I'll help you.
- Gently! - Sorry.
One, two, three.
- Can I let go? - Yes, it's OK.
- I thought you were dead. - No, no.
Just a little dazed.
- I need my batons. - Sure.
- Where are you going? - Eh?
This way.
It's called Naussac.
My friends said it was great.
And…
it's not that far from Avignon.
I left there three days ago.
I'll get there the day after tomorrow.
I'm not as crazy as you, only four, five days at the most.
You think I'm crazy?
I didn't mean it like that. You have to dare.
Dare to do what?
Undertake long journeys.
Oh, shit!
This place is fucking amazing.
- Shall we take a break? - No.
Fuck! What a pain.
KILOMETER 357 VALLON-PONT-D'ARC
Please, I'm totally exhausted.
How far have we come?
Look on the map.
Got any salt?
No.
If I'd known, I'd have lifted some from the bar.
Pasta without salt is tasteless.
If you're looking at my face, I had an accident.
I wasn't.
My father had an accident, too.
On a motorcycle.
Only he wasn't as lucky as you.
He died.
How long ago?
It was in April.
He and a friend were goofing off.
He hit a pothole…
then a tree, he died instantly.
His friend said he wasn't even drunk.
It was in the afternoon.
My mother believes in God.
So she took it as normal, I mean…
Not normal, but…
Is that why you're walking?
And you? Why are you walking?
I've always walked.
Everyone walks at their own pace.
That's why it's hard walking with other people.
If a man walks out of step with his comrades,
he's hearing a different drum.
That's nice.
It's Thoreau, Henry David Thoreau.
- Zorro? - Thoreau!
Never heard of him.
He's a great writer. He's written lots about nature and…
walking.
Sorry, but school was never my thing.
Literature isn't school.
No, but…
It's another kind of school.
- Lots of writers never went to school. - Yes, but I don't care about that.
Sorry, but it's really not my thing.
Not your thing?
You're right, stay as you are.
What is it you're writing?
It's a card for a friend.
Want to send him a message?
He's really your friend?
Yes, he is. Why?
Because this card is ugly!
- It's horrible. - Show me.
You're right, it's not pretty.
There.
Dylan!
You're walking too fast.
Sorry.
Don't apologize.
- Slow down. - Yesterday I saw you walking fast.
Go ahead, then.
No, I'm not in a hurry, I'll wait.
Taking the Wandering Paths,
finding clearings behind the brambles…
was a way to escape the cities' machinations…
and the encircling dead screens.
Leaving…
meant opening a gap in the ramparts.
Having neither the narcissism of the activist…
nor the rage of the saboteur…
I preferred to run away.
Fuck!
Oh, fuck!
What?
None for me?
She stops, she likes me.
She takes me back to hers.
I swear!
I go back to hers, completely drunk,
I turn on the light with my foot, she laughs.
I sleep with her and everything.
I wake up, no-one's there.
I think: "Fuck, is this a dream? I don't get it.
"What's going on?"
And it was her apartment, too!
You see? She left without even having breakfast.
- Sorry. - Nothing.
Yeah.
- That way? - Wait, because…
If you carry on this way,
you'll end up…
on Mende Road.
Then you follow Espaillac and go straight on to Naussac.
- Yeah. - OK?
Yeah.
I'm going this way.
Want to come with me to the house,
spend a couple of days with my friends?
It's out of my way, I'm going north.
Yeah…
- Still… - What?
Well…
They're not really my friends.
I don't know them that well.
It was nice meeting you, anyway.
I like you a lot.
Really.
That's nice.
- Have a good trip. - You too.
Dylan!
This is the book I was telling you about.
- Thoreau? - Yes.
I'd like you to read it.
Yeah.
I will, I promise.
As for studying,
first I need to get a job and settle in.
And then…
But I'll read it, it's not too long. I will.
OK.
Hey, Pierre!
Look after yourself.
Bye.
The wandering paths took me to a France
that is at once illegal and unreal.
Illegal because you could sleep by a forbidden fire,
meet strange guys,
nomads, gypsies, peasants.
They're grenache.
It's good.
Safe trip.
Unreal because of the ghosts.
Shit!
KILOMETER 525 THE TRUYÈRE RIVER
- Been waiting long? - Ages.
Good to see you.
Thanks.
- You've gained a few pounds. - That's why I'm here.
Arnaud had lived in Siberia for 30 years.
And though he often didn't have a rouble,
he'd accumulated priceless memories there.
He'd crisscrossed the banks of the Kamchatka,
the Amur River delta and Lake Baikal.
He got married on the banks of the Lena to the woman he calls Tanyushka.
He was my friend, and I was glad to have his company for a few days.
You OK?
Khorosho.
Arnaud walked fast.
I struggled to keep up.
Come on.
Cantal, Arnaud, Arnaud, Cantal.
Hi.
It's fabulous here.
But hey…
KILOMETER 543 PLOMB DU CANTAL
We should go via the Bec de l'aigle. What do you think?
We've a long way to go.
Move yourself.
It's not gonna be easy.
What… Pierre!
What is it? Shit! Breathe!
You'll be OK. Breathe!
Stay with me!
Just a little more.
That's not so bad.
Next summer you can go to the rehabilitation center.
Next summer I'm walking across France.
Fine, if you say so.
- See you later. - OK.
I'm gonna go.
Yeah.
Could you fetch me a book from Brieux's?
- I may not come tomorrow. - There's no rush.
You OK?
Yes.
I'm fine.
Anna?
- They can't keep him here. - See what the doctor says.
All right?
Yeah.
You scared me.
When I saw you on the ground…
I'm sorry.
No…
Lucky we weren't on the ridge,
or the ambulance wouldn't have come.
It was to be expected, it's volcanic.
So…
- Want some water? - Yeah.
Thanks.
- Taking your meds? - Eh?
Your meds.
If you don't take them, forget walking. The doctors won't let you.
- Or else… - Or else what?
- It's over, we go home. - Back to Paris?
- They want to transfer you. - I don't care.
I've been walking for weeks, I'm not stopping now.
I spoke to your dad and your sister.
- They're relying on me… - So am I.
If I stop, I fail.
The intern said you were dehydrated.
What does an intern know?
Excuse me. The doctor wants to see you.
Follow me.
Right.
It's strange, but…
when you had your accident, I wasn't afraid of losing you.
I knew you'd live.
It's not your accident, it's…
It's your life.
It's you who'll break us up.
As soon as you can walk, you'll disappear.
Here.
The doctors hadn't forbidden me to go walking again,
nor had they advised me to.
My thoughts turned to Vialatte: "The snail never retreats."
- Got your breath back? - Yes.
Maybe we can sleep over there.
- We can bivouac here, it's fine… - No, no.
Tonight we sleep under a roof.
Yeah?
Like bourgeois.
No.
Like Siamese twins.
Come on.
Wait.
- Yes, what is it? - Hello.
Could we get some water?
Some water?
- Of course, come in. - Thanks.
What do you think?
Excellent.
You make it yourself?
My sister does, I just drink it.
Yesterday we saw some russet cows
in the fields near Lantiers.
- Are they yours? - Yes, Lantiers to Miravas.
My son looks after them now.
I retired and handed them over to him.
And before you, your father?
Yes, my father came here as a shepherd
just after the war, in '46.
Then he met the boss's daughter.
They married and took over the farm.
Farmer's son, farmer's father, now retired.
- Nice story. - Yeah.
And in the meantime?
In the meantime…
My wife died young, too young.
In the meantime I got old.
Now I have arthritis.
- I can't walk. - But you're having treatment?
Every Thursday the taxi takes me to Aurillac.
That's a long way.
Yes, at least half an hour.
I'd rather the doctor was here,
but the money goes elsewhere.
The farmers stay and the doctors leave.
How was it back then?
- Were there more people? - Yes, there were 8 farms and 3 farms here.
We had 4 or 5 cows, we made…
3 Saint-Nectaires a day.
Now they make 150,
and they can barely repay their loans.
I love that cheese.
Yeah.
Yes, but I don't eat much of it now.
I prefer salami.
It's not over yet!
There was too much of everything suddenly.
Too much production,
too much movement,
too much energy.
In the brain, it caused epilepsy.
In history, it was called massification.
In society, it led to crisis.
I had always been an enemy of backward thinking.
Fearing mediocrity.
I had considered nostalgia a shameful disease,
worse than liver cirrhosis,
which still passed for the price of a good time had.
But now I wondered if progress was the development of a mistake.
- See you Saturday. - Have a nice day.
- Hello. - Hello.
I'm also expecting a parcel under the name Girard.
- Wait here, I'll check. - Right.
- This is to go back. - OK.
- I don't have any Scotch tape. - I'll do it.
- Is there a pharmacy here? - No.
- You're the pharmacist too. - Yes, it may well come to that.
- All the best. - Thanks, goodbye.
Passing through these villages was dispiriting.
DOCTOR WANTED
What wasn't closed was for sale,
and what was for sale couldn't find a buyer.
Throughout the Creuse,
I wandered in a state of dry intoxication.
My epilepsy medication stupefied me.
To this I added colchicine for my heart
and products to ease my leg pain.
I had set my life on fire.
Burnt my boats.
"Try not to fall in," I thought, crossing the bridges over the streams.
Save the region from chemical pollution.
KILOMETER 658 POETS' PATH
Shit!
- You OK? - Yes.
You're hurting.
- No. - Yes, you are.
- No. - Yes.
Your feet hurt.
My boots hurt.
Your boots don't hurt, your feet hurt.
OK, my feet hurt.
They're too new. You should've worn old sneakers.
I don't have any.
Wait for me!
My sister had joined me the night before.
I'd promised her an easy pace.
The nights would be warm, I'd said. She'd sleep comfortably.
She could go back to Paris the next day.
I've never slept outside.
Under the stars?
Yes, under the stars.
You're making a big sacrifice to sleep with me.
When Arnaud left,
I didn't like leaving you on your own.
I didn't know you worried…
I should've brought you before.
Yes, you should have.
You know, I always knew we'd get a phone call.
Everyone at home knew we'd get a phone call.
To say that you'd been found dead,
in Siberia, or somewhere,
frozen, or eaten by a bear.
Worse still, we'd got used to the idea.
It was unbearable.
We were terrified.
Mom too, you know?
She was so envious.
She was scared, but she was so envious.
You were what she'd always wanted to be.
Free.
Do you think about her?
I can't stop thinking about her,
all the time.
I think about her all the time.
When I see a cross, I think of her.
Crossing a river too.
All the time.
But I'm not dead.
And I'm not going to die.
- Never. - OK.
- I'm against it. - Me too.
- You're hurting me. - Sorry.
You're so annoying!
What was that saying about fear, the door…
Fear and the door?
Oh, yes…
"If fear knocks on your door and you're brave enough to open it,
you'll see there's no one there."
You're a strange guy.
In what way?
I don't know, you're nuts.
- Not just as a brother. - As a person.
- Yes. - Yeah.
You're different.
- I'm pleased you're better. - I'm sticking to my path.
- Give Dad a kiss for me. - OK.
- Hello. - Hello.
Did she write?
Anna.
No.
- There you go. - Thank you.
Where are you headed?
Châteauroux.
You've just missed the bus.
- I'm going on foot. - To Châteauroux?
- That's a trek. - Yes.
Bovril will send you to sleep.
But it warms you up.
Coffee and brandy, then.
I'm not allowed.
I'm on medication.
I'd have had a drink, then got the bus.
I couldn't be bothered.
I'll try and sort it out, when are you leaving?
You tell me!
You didn't sign with her, OK?
KILOMETER 682 BOURGANEUF
KILOMETER 715 NEAR ARDENTES
Evening.
KILOMETER 772 OVER THE LOIRE RIVER
KILOMETER 834 VIEILLE ÉGLISE BEACH
Jacques!
Let's have another drink.
- Come on. - Very clever!
For the stars!
No! Pierre!
Sir?
Are you OK?
I'm OK.
- Are you sure? - Yes.
What happened?
André, do you have your phone?
You know I don't take it out with me.
- We'll help you. - It's fine.
You need to rest.
Yes, I'll get some rest soon.
You need to rest now.
In your state, this is crazy.
The paths had fulfilled their role.
Walking had raised me up even before taking the final step.
The mountain of Saint-Michel,
with its inexplicable beauty,
canceled out the rest of the world, held up the sky and obscured the sea.
KILOMETER 1,121 MONT SAINT MICHEL BAY
"It's over," I said.
Fate let me walk to my heart's content
and sleep under the stars, in habitable outposts:
ledges, undergrowth,
next to cliffs.
The country was there, under my back.
No-one knew what the transformations would bring.
Nations aren't reptiles:
they don't know how they will evolve.
You should always follow the cards,
believe their promises.
Cross the whole country to close the bad chapters.
I learned one thing…
you could still go straight ahead and beat nature.
There were still dark valleys with no-one to tell you the way.
And the windy days could be followed by nights in grandiose places.
You just had to find them.
Cracks existed.
They were still the wandering paths.