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It inevitably starts in an airport. This time, it’s the Toronto one, where I live. The plane is late. Two hours to kill, filled with good resolutions.

I promised myself to start from the beginning, keeping a detailed diary that documents the entire process…Have a little bit of discipline, comrade!


Waiting to leave for Detroit. Everyone has their electronic devices.


I’m comfortably seated, ready, with my IPod in my ears. The “Blues”playlist is on. I try to put myself in the mood. I am anticipating, that which I’m dreaming of and want. And I start planning this trip.

I am not in a socializing mode, not in these circumstances, not in these places of transit. I don’t want to lose focus.

You may be wondering what I am up to…Well, let me tell you: I often have the privilege to undertake some art projects, mainly thanks to grants offered by the Arts Council of Ontario to francophone artists. This year, I was offered the opportunity to take on a project dear to my heart since I was little. I’m going on “the road”, the mythical one which leads to the American South.

Along this road that will take me from Detroit to Louisiana and back, I will try to meet people and film their evening meal… whatever that is.

I was adamant to not let myself over-prepare by making appointments in advance, as I usually would have done for a professional shoot. For this adventure, I precisely want to leave room for improvisation and chance encounters…

To this end, I am going to use my favorite recipe: follow my real and natural interests, without forcing, and then expect the encounters will happen… almost by magic. I will focus on seeking out good food and good music! With fingers-crossed, the rest will follow…

Still a little anxious about jumping into this adventure…Not quite sure if I am aiming right. Afraid to spend too much time and loose my shirt on it. Will I meet people that easily? Remarkable people? Do they really need to be remarkable after all? It’s not even that clear to me. Mundane things can carry a certain poetry too. And still… will they agree to let a complete weird-looking stranger who’s a bit swarthy, a “frenchie”, enter into their life for a while?


I have read and heard so much about “The South”, this place which I do not really know.

In fact, I have only crossed the region…. And this was a real long time ago.

Should I have tried to schedule some appointments, as per customary «casting»? Or was I actually right to do hit the road haphazardly… leaving all doors open?

Here we go, I am at the boarding gate for Detroit, some kind of an enclave, as if it were already a shameful destination. Oh man! What’s with the oily smell of bad grilled cheese, or burnt rather, which is a little out of place in this sanitized airport environment? It reminds me of the smell of a greasy spoon or French fries cabin… a lil’ rural flair, so to speak.

We’re off! I am finally flying in this little cuckoo. We are only five passengers. Looks like not that many people are heading to Detroit…

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