This day there, in Paris, the dizziness still knocks, decades and decades later. Aline and Thomas take a ticket, with for any money " ballad of has thin man " of Bob Dylan who walks them in the head, the guardian figures in slide show under their crane (Robert Frank, William Eggleston, Sally Mann) and the number of an unknown, former secondhand bookseller exiled in the middle of nowhere, sensible according to a common knowledge to supply them a falling point and roaming angles where to roam. By way of address, a kind of surreal treasure hunt, a map in the treasure hardly modernized. They decide to work without ever planning anything, to revive this word the real sense of which is often lost: immediate. No second becomes moldy, an immediate result to move the cowardly reins, by letting the technique, the control, the frame, the precision resume their extras' places. Restore there luck in the accident. A chamber Linhof Master's degree and a Polaroid 600 in pocket, they drive, in closer of the desire, pushed aside by an atmosphere, a silhouette, a mere nothing which upsets on the quiet, by an unforeseen which gives itself, polas put under the windscreen, so that the sun reveals them and alters them at once, and negatives were hung on a cord stretched out on the back beach. Innocence, purity; these powers which wear out when we do not use it. So, according to the meanders of the road, the bottoms of bags and the impossible directions, They try to re-dip their imagination to there source. And the source is always lively.
A solar road trip, according to the meetings, the recollections, where we cross a legend of the blues become a desk clerk, to whom, too much impressed, we are afraid of giving his keys, a ghost of committed suicide to haunt a chamber of motel, the musicians of Calexico to give a concert enchanted in front of ten persons in one to dine poor. These pages, news scrawled texts, images, tracks collected as so many short-lived butterflies, let with the events, with the anecdotes, with the reality and with the dream, the freedom to faint, to dissolve; they carry and get in them the heart of this journey, and give to see the main part; this road makes for two.
Irrigated by a delicate and powerful poetry, in the trembled, melancholic elegance without pathos, archetypes resume life, take back sense. Decorations ballasts of a soul. Hung on the lace of a in the border lit by cold incandescence of outlines of a face, a shoulder, a flower ripped by the desert, running along fair hair as strands of bulbs under a calcined sky, filtering through colors annihilated by the heat, a dialogue is set up, enters the clarity which the darkness is loaded with, and the part of shade which the light carries in her.
From their arrival, here and there, posters, planted on shoulders and banks, raised themselves in front of Aline and Thomas: "Dust storms may exist", warned they. In this book, of the storm the beauty - and the dust does not return completely to the dust.