A l'ouest, it's not a novel, it's not a poem, it's in-between, I could have said 'roème' or 'poem', but I finally opted for simplicity and define it as a story. This book is about my two compasses. Paris. And the coast. I am always in big gap between these two coordinates. This book was born from the dune and the bitumen. He speaks of lost love, rediscovered love, of a drift like a long tracking shot through the night of the capital, of a headlong flight towards the coast. He talks about the feeling of sand underfoot, salt on the skin, the flight of birds. But it's not just a talking book, it's also a book that takes shape, under the pencil of Studio Briand-Berthereau.