He is Mr. Carreaux. He walks towards you imagined, he sees you, Blanche. He sees you. And, from the depths of winter, and from the city, he writes you in truth, for you to exist. You're here, reading his words. He is here, writing to you. You want what he offers you: at the end of the day, you answer him. You and he, between your voices, begin to exist. Mr. Carreaux, it's your winter tale: the real experience of an imagined love.
 
"Once upon a time there was your long and round white night. Once upon a time there was a beginning. "