Alain walks through Paris in search of a reason to keep living, and in his charm and occasional lightness, you almost believe he’s pulling through. His “recovery” looks convincing from the outside, yet appearances mean little in the landscape of depression. He reconnects with friends but never makes real plans for the future. At times he seems to fantasise about it, but in the same way a child dreams of going to space. Beneath every gesture, there’s an unspoken certainty: he does not believe in his own recovery.
I really wanted him to pull through
Alain walks through Paris in search of a reason to keep living, and in his charm and occasional lightness, you almost believe he’s pulling through. His “recovery” looks convincing from the outside, yet appearances mean little in the landscape of depression. He reconnects with friends but never makes real plans for the future. At times he seems to fantasise about it, but in the same way a child dreams of going to space. Beneath every gesture, there’s an unspoken certainty: he does not believe in his own recovery.
I really wanted him to pull through
