About.
A filmmaker follows a woman through the streets and shadows of Paris. She becomes many things: a trapeze artist drifting weightless through air, a model frozen in time beneath the flash of a camera, a lover caught in the hush between two heartbeats, a child laughing just before the world grows heavy. Through his lens, her identity shifts, fluid and dreamlike, as if each role reveals another layer of something more elusive.
The film unfolds like a reverie, caught in that fragile moment between sleep and waking, where time and memory slips into imagination. It is steeped in the textures of melancholy: quiet streets at dawn, a half-finished cigarette, a sudden smile on a rainy afternoon. Loneliness and joy walk side by side. Childhood brushes up against adulthood. Nothing holds still for long.
At its core, the story turns on a quiet metaphor: that life moves in circles, not lines. That we are always returning to places, to people, and to versions of ourselves. And in the end, when we arrive back at the beginning, it’s no longer the same. We see it differently. We see ourselves differently. As T.S. Eliot wrote in Little Gidding, “to arrive where we started / And know the place for the first time.”
This isn’t just a portrait of a woman. It’s a meditation on time, memory, and the strange, beautiful loop of being alive.