In a house there is Maisie, 5 years old, her father, her mother: friends sometimes visit this house. Sometimes nothing happens except the movement of light through the windows, the doors, the dog, the wind. Still Maisie is watching. Discords, separations are also preparing in this house, new movements of desires. Secret transgressions are announced there, dislocations, pains and also terror. Maisie looks at everything. What does she see? She sees a bit of everything. Maisie, 5, lives in the back of the house, her eyes are at the height of tables, locks, chiaroscuro at the bottom of the dresses. She hears, stares, discovers and sees. We don't know what. At the most, from what Maisie knows, of this jumble, of this gigantic engulfment, we try, with a camera, to take something of it in our turn.
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