A voice speaks of the loneliness of the artist. A nameless man drives a car, speaks of a vocation, his approach to his metier, his difficulties, his failure. He then gives a cue to a mysterious woman (his muse?). Voices on and off build a fragile edifice in which ‘I’ and ‘he’ get muddled. The present is transformed into the past. The individual becomes a multitude, writing a labyrinth; and des Pallières launches into filmmaking.