"The house, the world.../The house...the world/The house: the world. He lives in the suspense of this conjunction, moving the punctuation, the spirit of which links the places where he resides, depending on his mood. He inhabits the world as he does his house: immobile. A serious accident has placed him here, in this part of the world: a house in the middle of a large garden. He can no longer travel the world: he thinks about it day after day from his house. He inhabits the world like a house, inhabits his house like a world. He takes photos: of his house, of the world. Around ten a day, including the night. Always the same topics, but not the same light; the same colours, but not the same temperatures. A thermometer is the discreet hero of these variations. These set views produce a miracle: the movement that is taken from them passes to him. Does he come and go in the world? He moves each time that he places his eye to the viewer, each time that he presses on the shutter button. Every click moves him endlessly in his house and in the world, in the world as it does in his house, outside his house, outside the world. In addition to the miracle there is a wonder: when he looks at his pictures again, makes a selection, starts to organise them: the movement revives in them, among them. They return to the world. The world that he inhabits, he, as he inhabits, day after day. He is a filmmaker. He has only lived to make films. Always one more: for and against every circumstance. He imagines making a film using all of his still shots, motivating himself by conjunction, juxtaposition, succession. He would separate, from the infinite batch, whatever he needed to see a year pass, four seasons, day after day. Jour après jour will be the title. The programme. The only script." (Jean-Paul Fargier)