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You are the source that comforts me.
I don't need anything else.
I implore you Father.
Don't let me lose my way.
My heart is heavy.
I can't carry it anymore.
I must lay it down.
On the ground.
I must leave it.
Sink it to the bottom of the sea.
To drift away.
To Haiti.
We have to go back.
Together.
Like a child.
And her mother.
What is proposed.
An announcement of things to come.
To install the possibility of a fluid journey.
In time and space.
My story is both tragic and hopeful.
Hope sustains life.
It looks like home.
It looks like this house.
It looks like the house.
In this neighborhood.
Ten years ago.
What we propose.
Invented stories.
Not so far from reality.
An announcement of things to come.
We will install the possibility of a fluid journey.
In time and space.
In Haiti.
In the United States.
And in Quebec.
We will travel through time.
Me in an adult body that never existed.
And my mother.
My mom.
In all her splendor.
and her courage to go on living despite everything.
This House
I was born in Stamford in 1994.
Stamford in the state of Connecticut.
I died in 2008.
In my house.
It' s so beautiful.
You didn't tell me how beautiful it was.
Yes.
It's very, very beautiful.
All this vegetation.
The rustic houses.
The sea.
It's exactly as I remember it.
Yes, it's exactly like that.
Where are we going?
I say we go.
There.
I used to get lost.
Without ever asking for directions.
Of course, I did it on purpose.
To get lost on purpose.
I explore, Mom, I explore.
All those roads, intersections to get somewhere.
And a part of me that wondered if you would ever find me.
I remember everything in detail.
Almost microscopic.
It is both beautiful and terrifying.
I was born in Stamford in 1994.
Stamford in the state of Connecticut.
To a Haitian mother and father.
I told her.
To walk straight home from school.
I told her.
It's four o'clock, she should be here.
She should be here.
I have to go back.
Or tomorrow.
Maybe, tomorrow will be better.
Maybe tomorrow.
Are you still waiting?
You should not be here.
You must go away.
No, I must stay with you.
Period.
You have to leave
You have to get up.
You woke me up.
You have to go now.
Now.
Now !
Why are you whispering?
There is no one here to hear us.
Flamingo.
Hibiscus.
Jasmine.
And orchid.
You woke me up.
And now you look at me like anything could happen.
I try to remember what really happened.
I try to remember.
When I know exactly what happened.
So do you.
We're making it up.
That's what we are doing here, right?
We're trying.
We try to write a story.
Another story.
An impossible story.
It's okay.
You can take a break.
There's a glass of water in front of you.
If you want to drink.
I was born in Stamford in 1994.
Stamford is a small town in the state of Connecticut.
I.
I died in Bridgeport.
I died in Bridgeport, Connecticut.
14 years later.
At home.
You know.
You know the child is dead ?
Mom is outside with the aunts.
They can't see you like this.
Maybe he won't lift the sheet in front of them.
At the same time, they know it's you.
She's the one who found you, right?
There's no doubt about it.
It is me.
Or she will want to see you one last time.
And hug you.
Or all this is not true.
And this is your chance to go back one last time.
With a lighter heart.
One that hasn't known violence and pain.
Everyone knows that the coffin will be closed.
That's how we do it.
It's perfect this way.
It's perfect like that.
There will be no one to see my face.
Or my neck
I don't want anyone to see my neck.
It's so ugly.
Even with makeup on.
There is nothing to do.
It's a disaster.
You are the source that comforts me.
I don't need anything else.
I implore you Father.
Don't let me lose my way.
I open my eyes.
I open them again.
I lie down and fall asleep.
You are the one.
You are the one who gives me strength.
I lie down and I fall asleep.
Protect my child in the night.
I lie down, I fall asleep and wake up.
Protect my child tonight.
Who is the mother?
Will you come to my office?
They will stay with me.
So doctor,
We were told to come here and not to the police station.
I have to explain to her in detail.
What happened to her daughter.
You tell us the truth and nothing else.
Your daughter has suffered a lot.
She's not in any more pain.
That's what matters.
The report is very technical.
I will leave a copy with you.
This is the procedure.
You can go home if you want.
I don't know.
I don't know. I won't understand it.
You say the report is very technical?
At home, I won't understand it.
You want to see your daughter?
Abrasions around the neck.
Slight contusion on the left temple.
The bruises are not related to a hanging.
They occurred before death.
Cause of death.
The cause of death was manual strangulation.
I performed a postmortem of the entire body.
There are undeniable signs of sexual assault.
None of this is true.
This is another life, not mine.
Tomorrow I'm gonna wake up.
I will go to Coney Island with Shanya.
Instead of studying.
I'll have plenty of time to study history or science.
None of this is true.
Not this wall.
Not this body.
I will wake up.
Tomorrow I will wake up.
Tomorrow.
I'll wake up tomorrow.
Tomorrow I'll wake up.
I'll wake up tomorrow.
Tomorrow I will wake up.
I'll wake up tomorrow.
Tomorrow I will wake up.
Tomorrow.
Soon they will be there.
This garden is horrible.
I can't have anyone here at all.
They're going to come and take my children away from me.
Let's close the curtains.
And we say that the access is condemned.
Mom.
Remember, Mom.
They have been here before.
They've seen the garden before.
They didn't make any unpleasant remarks.
Despite the weeds.
Despite the dead flowers.
In spite of the little animals that gnawed on the plants.
They came to see the house.
To make sure everything was okay.
That you were getting out of bed.
And that you weren't closing in on yourself.
With thoughts of death.
They judged your instincts.
If it was leaning towards
Towards the desire to live.
Remember, Mom.
They have already been here.
They are coming.
Second visit.
The home seems stable to me.
The mother is not in a state.
Which is surprising.
I sense that she doesn't yet realize what has happened.
When we arrived at the house.
The house was tidy.
And so was the room where the death had taken place.
The mother sat us down in the living room.
She asked us if we wanted something to drink.
I said I wanted a coffee.
Nadine didn't know what to do.
It was her first day.
She stared at the wooden floor.
The mother returned a few moments later with the coffees.
I was stunned.
Her eyes were not reddened with tears.
She was calm, almost too calm.
She put the coffees on the table without spilling anything.
Then.
She answered all our questions without flinching.
I took notes as if in a trance.
As if she was telling me an impossible story.
A story that doesn't happen.
Even to others.
Even to the most despicable ones.
On the way back.
Nadine who had not said a word turned to me.
She said to me.
I understand.
She is like me.
I can't live things when I should live them.
I'm like that too.
Out of sync.
I left Nadine at her apartment and went home.
That night.
I went straight to bed.
I cried for a family I barely knew.
The next day I went back to work as if nothing had happened.
At dawn, I was already on the road.
The next day.
Aren't you going to come in?
If you let us in.
We have to document everything.
Even the ugly, what's beautiful and horrible.
Okay ?
Bougainvillea.
Here a tree of life.
And there, birds of paradise.
You record all of this?
It's really very nice.
I hate this house.
I want to go home.
I want to go back to my country.
I am so tired.
I feel disconnected.
Maybe it's related to the violence of my death.
In my room.
By my bed.
In the wardrobe.
I have known the overwhelming joy.
The desire to grow old.
To become an adult who would make a difference here.
That didn't happen.
One day.
We will go for a walk by the sea.
We will go one day.
To the bottom of the sea.
Like yesterday.
Like tomorrow.
One day.
Time will no longer exist for us.
For I know the end.
It never existed.
This time.
Today I am in your belly.
Yesterday I was overflowing with love.
My sister and I walked hand in hand.
Always and without fear.
Back from school. Overflowing with love.
We were infallible.
Yesterday.
Today.
I stare at the sky.
Without clouds.
Without lights.
Without colors.
Just you and me in this garden.
Tomorrow.
I will fight alone to stay alive.
Because I know the end.
Then nothing.
Then death.
And emptiness.
And death again.
I want to get out of here.
I hate this place.
I hate this place and what is possible here.
Come !
Come on, Mom!
We must get up.
As you used to sing so well every morning.
We've got to get up.
I'm not sure I know this village.
Don't you recognize anything?
Take your time.
There is a little girl up there.
She's looking at us.
There is a little girl up there.
I don't know.
I say the words without understanding.
There is a little girl.
Mom, we can't go see the little girl.
Not now.
See.
You understand.
If I had to spend the rest of my life at sea.
Without a map, without food, without water.
With the certainty that my memories would be intact.
I try to find out which continent.
No.
And then there is the whole question of swimming.
We don't know how to swim.
We were never taught.
This street no longer exists.
This one does.
I'm not sure it ever existed.
You know exactly where to go.
Onward.
You know your country very well.
To the East.
To the East, captain!
I could tell you a story with a happy ending.
But I know how you hate that.
On the way here.
I didn't recognize anything.
Not the faces, not the streets, not the houses.
But I was born here.
I grew up here.
And yet I recognize nothing.
Neither the language, nor the laughter.
Nor the extraordinary joy.
In spite of the shortcomings
Despite the torn desire to leave or to stay forever.
On the way here, you said.
This is a house, a school.
Your house, your school.
I pretended to recognize them.
The people, the language, the country.
Probably you noticed it.
My mind is locked up there.
As if I had never lived.
Before or after.
I feel like I'm disconnected.
I keep asking myself what I'm doing here.
And I remind myself that it's so I won't be forgotten.
Or to not forget.
It's strange to realize that I don't have any emotion.
Related to death.
I'm not angry.
Or overwhelmed by sadness.
I've experienced overwhelming joy.
The desire to grow up.
and become an adult who would make a difference here.
My story is both tragic and hopeful.
Isn't it?
Hope sustains life.
Even beyond death.
A queen mourned the disappearance of her beloved.
She lamented endlessly to whoever would listen.
To men.
To Gods.
One day, a young girl came to the court.
Her clothes were in tatters.
Her feet were swollen.
The queen couldn't understand why.
Her guards had let her into the palace.
The girl walked up to her and held out her arm.
The next day.
Ten years had passed.
In the morning, my mother called me.
She said softly to me.
Didn't you hear?
Didn't you hear that the child is dead?
Terra.
She died.
I lost my voice.
I lost my head.
I lost my heart.
I didn't go to the funeral.
I wasn't brave enough.
I went back a few months ago.
In Connecticut.
In the car.
We drove in circles.
We drove in circles on the road.
I was pretending.
I didn't know the place.
I didn't recognize the house.
The neighborhood.
I wasn't brave enough.
To enter the house.
In the house where you died.
I turned around.
I went back home.
To write this story.
I'm going back home.
There is a little voice.
Who keeps repeating to me.
Here I am a stranger.
Here I am disconnected.
I wander.
To the land of dreams.
That's what we do here.
We're just pretending, right?
You're going to help me?
Not at all.
You keep everything.
This is your fault.
I want us to get out of here.
You're lucky I'm keeping everything.
You never know if it'll be useful in the future.
I doubt it.
There's probably half my life in this barrel.
Top secret.
No one's allowed to touch it but me.
I'm sure there's a reason for all this.
Watch out!
Be careful.
Be careful my little one.
You know the Haitians with their trinkets.
You're not allowed to touch them.
They decorate their houses.
Like museums.
With all kinds of trinkets.
That represents.
Our past lives.
Our future lives.
All of our dreams.
Those of our children.
Come on ! Let's go !
It' s so beautiful.
Where are the others?
I want to see them.
They won't come.
It's your fault.
You asked them not to come.
They can't come.
Who will sing?
Everything is possible here.
It's a surprise then.
They will arrive soon.
Dressed in their best clothes.
I don't want to leave without seeing them.
You know it.
All right, then. I'll wait with you.
What do we do while we wait?
We can eat the cake.
We'll make another one later.
Anything is possible here.
Everything is possible here.
Everything.
Is.
Possible.
Here.
Everything is possible here.
Come on, let's blow.
If I fight for a few more minutes.
I will not be forgotten.
My life will be valuable again.
It will have the same value as yours.
Exactly the same.
I plead for my life.
For a few minutes.
I pleaded.
That's how our story began.
On a referendum day.
In 1995.
The whole family was gathered in Laval.
Waiting for the result of the election.
The atmosphere was tense.
I think it was the first time.
That we could understand.
That we were not welcome.
You could see it in the little things of everyday life.
In the little insults.
In the little taunts.
If the yes vote passed.
It would be harder for us.
Strangers.
Go back home.
Go back to your country.
That we could understand.
My whole family was gathered in one house.
We were getting ready.
With our suitcases.
With our boxes.
If the yes side had won.
We would have left.
To Connecticut.
To join the family.
I was a child in 1995.
Since then, I've been wondering.
What if we had left?
What!
You put the chicken in the oven without cleaning it?
It's dirty.
You've turned white!
If it was me, I would only put vinegar.
I don't see what the problem is.
You don't see what the problem is?
You have to clean the meat.
Soak the meat.
It's not a legend.
Excuse me!
You don't have time for that sort of thing.
To clean and soak the chicken.
You have a life, right?
Stop it.
I'm not the one who's going to eat that chicken.
It's going in your mouth.
You better believe it.
Everybody is quiet in the house.
I love you.
I love you too, sweetie.
Can I go watch my show?
It starts in five minutes.
What show?
I put all my trust in Trudeau's spirit tonight.
Along with the heavenly father.
I already baked the victory cake.
He's a fine young man.
For that you speak Creole.
You can shout it out loud.
He is a handsome young man.
Well said! He is a handsome young man.
Creole is spoken and understood.
Another precedent of this referendum coverage.
It's for Internet users.
That's what we call them.
Who will be able to get the results of the consultation
at the address I will give you now.
The https.www.src-mtl.com
So the users of the electronic highway.
Will find the results for each of the electoral divisions.
Each of the 125 electoral divisions in Québec.
Here, we are in Outremont.
At the Outremont high school.
It's boring.
Who wants to show me how to play dominoes?
Four.
Can we watch something else?
It's boring.
We've been watching the same thing for a while now.
The boy you see here.
has just rescued a lamb from the clutches of a bear.
Furious the animal stood up on its hind legs
But the boy grabbed it and kicked it to death.
Furious the animal stood up on its hind legs.
But the boy grabbed it and kicked it.
To death.
We've won!
I told you so.
In the name of the heavenly Father.
We won!
Finally, the no vote passed!
Trudeau forever new!
Thank you Lord.
We got them!
Here is the victory cake.
I won't be able to leave.
Mom.
I won't be able to leave.
Mom.
I won't be able to leave.
Mom.
I won't be able to leave.
Mom.
Won't be able to leave.
Mom.
You hear them.
They are so happy.
They won't have to come with us.
Learn English.
Move to another country.
It's a party tonight.
In our hearts and souls.
It's a party of course.
Here, I brought you a piece of cake.
It's a little less festive for us.
It's a bit of a tragedy.
I know.
I'm still glad to see them happy.
They feel good about staying here.
Hey ! I want some too.
I know you.
Can't hide anything from you.
Know it all.
Everyone knows that Aunt Rhode's cakes are too spicy.
It's a sacrifice.
I can take your place.
It doesn't work that way.
You know it.
I could tell you that everything is going to be okay.
That it's just a dream.
A bad dream and you're going to wake up.
Life testing you.
To make you realize how much.
How precious it is.
A nightmare from which you can escape one day.
Someday.
That time heals the wounds.
That we are watched over.
From above.
That my earthly suffering is over.
And that we'll meet again in heaven.
You and I.
In heaven.
It's not like that at all.
You're not dreaming.
No one is going to wake you up.
Or sing you the wake-up song.
I want to scream.
I want to go away.
Before I came here I thought of nothing.
I felt nothing.
I was a mass of particles.
My soul wandering from place to place.
To place.
All the time I was thinking about us.
About you.
About me.
Without ever feeling anything.
That must be heaven.
It' s so beautiful.
You didn't tell me how beautiful it was.
Yes.
It's very, very beautiful.
All this vegetation.
The rustic houses.
The sea.
It's exactly as I remember it.
Yes, it's exactly like that.
Where are we going?
I say we go.
There.
History will be written without us.
Once again.
The suitcases will be unpacked.
No need to leave.
To cross the border with me.
The day after tomorrow, I will return home.
With my daughter.
My child to come.
We sing.
We dance.
The refusal to be a strangers for generations to come.
This joy is immense.
This hope is infinite.
Yet.
All is vain and ephemeral.
Rejoice.
Today and tomorrow again.
I've seen the other world.
Nothing changed.
I know.
I know mom.
That you wait peacefully.
With a heavy heart.
You wait.
And you pray.
For the day you die.
In the hope that we will meet again.
The day dawns.
You wait.
The night comes.
You still wait for death.
And I walk.
I watch.
And I tell myself that.
Everything is possible here.
Is there no one to serve us?
I am disappointed.
Your aunts prepared everything.
They are not here to serve us.
I want to try all the dishes.
What are these?
It's accras.
And this?
Lalo.
Sounds delicious.
And so does this!
And this too!
And this!
Be careful not to get a bellyache.
Impossible!
Well, shall we start?