The fact is.
Why wouldn't we have three lives?
Just one is not enough.
Feelings feel cramped there.
Different temporalities are needed to evoke this failed love story which we know could have succeeded.
In 2044, Léa Seydoux, who seems to have little to do with her ten fingers, lends herself to a unique experience.
In this dehumanized future, emotions are no longer useful.
To clean your DNA, nothing could be simpler.
You are immersed in a black, viscous liquid.
A robot pricks you in the ear and all your memories disappear.
Like an oiled seagull, the heroine plays the game.
We find Léa Seydoux in 1910. Corseted in her evening dress, she haunts society salons.
This Gabrielle Monnier is a launched pianist.
Paul Poiret offers to dress him.
The lady is flattered.
Paris has its feet in the water.
Like a slightly weary courtesan, the Seine has left its bed.
Floods cause a fire in a doll factory…
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