Fugain recounts the night he found that poor corpse in a pool of blood to the detective,
Commissaire Buron. Fugain’s descriptions position the lens, and consequently the audience, into
his memory of that long night. The cold, misty air transforms his exhaling breath into icy puffs
of vapor. He brings his two fingers up to his mouth, forming a space where a cigarette may rest.
Our inquisitive detective questions this detail of the night, as he has questioned every detail of
the night so far, wondering why a grown man would display the actions of a child. Fugain replies
playfully with the simple explanation that it is fun, brushing off any judgments being passed on
him.
Just then, as he continues with his story and his pretend smoke, a woman enters the frame; one
we’ve seen before. She asks for a cigarette from the imaginary pack Fugain carries around on
cold evenings like this one. Fugain is taken aback with this woman’s sudden appearance. We
have seen here before, yet not really before, but rather much later from now. She pokes her head
into Commissaire Buron’s office during questioning three days after this memory takes place.
“You’re the one-eyed cop’s wife?”, Fugain replies with a simple point to Fiona, the suddenly
appearing curly-haired woman. With this recognition comes Fugain’s simple yet complicated
explanation for knowing her. The dimly lit street corner provides an abnormally comfortable
venue for these figures in this unbounded reverie. Fiona keeps a strong gaze on Fugain as he
works to explain the temporality of one’s own recounting of their memories.
