The latest of Tsai Ming-Liang’s “Walker series” locates Lee Kang-Sheng, dressed in the red robes of a Buddhist monk, in Paris. As with the earlier films and installations, Lee’s pace is slow to the point of being nearly still. He moves out of time, out of step, with the commotion around him, but his walk aligns with the camera’s frame, passing from one side to the other. He always appears amid the ruckus — an unexpected reveal by a passing bus is a classic instance of Tsai’s deadpan humor. Throughout, Lee is presented as someone who is seen, by passersby who gawk, snap photos, and in one case, verbally harass him. One of his observers is a young man, possibly an artist, whose solitary wanderings are intercut with the monk’s slow trajectory across the city. The two converge at the Centre Georges Pompidou, where on a large canvas stretched over the floor, they literally cross tracks