She came to see. I have no photo of Simon to show her, no trace except for these stolen shots, taken from the windows of his home overlooking the Jaurès metro station: the canal, cars, neighborhood life and this handful of Afghan refugees beneath the Lafayette arch... She watches with me, She questions me, we watch the seasons of this last year of my life with Simon pass, the final months of the refugees’ wearying battle to find a place here in Paris. Of course, it’s over now, the camp and the love affair, but She and I know that from here on, quite naturally, the whole world has been ever so slightly... transformed.