The masts are torn from the ground, the canvas of the tent goes flying. Between the metallic noise of the bleachers and the canvas beating the wind, there she is, motionless, impassive.
Her childlike gaze disappears as the marquee fades, leaving an empty space where everything was once living. In the midst of lightness and delicacy, Naomie recalls her memories.
After seeing the damage, overcome by sensitivity, she reveals the reconstruction of a lifetime. With the help of the Chinese Pole, Naomie leans in to be pulled back up, thus being able to move forward.