Suspendu à la nuit

There is a cable suspended between the machine and the void, between the snow-groomer and the slope, between Guillaume and his thoughts. Every winter night, Guillaume crosses the ski-runs and the mountain to repack the snow. Alone in his cabin, he is at one with his machine in a balance composed of ceaselessly repeated comings and goings. He has to cling to the night, to its grey areas, invent his path.