Camille has left her lover, Stélios. Because she never has enough time and she’s afraid of losing herself. Heading downstairs as she leaves his apartment, mouth open, she’s gasping for air. Outside, life goes on, it’s spring.

At the newspaper where she works, they are downsizing, letting people go. Camille considers leaving. In the meantime, she does reports, discovers an open-air Ali Baba’s cave: an enamel dump that glitters in the sun.

… And she cries a lot…

Until she unexpectedly leaves a dinner party with her companion, Thomas. And winds up in the midst of a mad chase scene through Paris, with a TV presenter who just got laid off.

By the end of the night, there, there is an understanding of where one’s true home is to be found: in the body of the beloved.

Over the course of a single week, the portrait of a woman who leaves the man she loves and then finds him again. As well as a lively, leaping story that toys with new technologies the better to talk about the world of work, about Paris, Facebook and strange, morphing-based couples-therapy sessions. By a writer who understands the secret of sentiments and who only describes his characters from the outside, with a plume that floats like a butterfly and stings like a bee.