Right at the bottom, Franck looked like a figurine. His pink polo shirt and city trousers showed just how out of place he was. She carried on watching him. He was walking all over the place, going left and right and staring at his phone the whole time. At one point he even went into the woods to see if he could get a signal.

‘Well?’ She had called out by way of encouragement, but he was too far away to hear. She watched him: absorbed in his problem, he was walking with his arms stretched out in front of him, like a diviner searching for water. She was happy to see this. Clearly there was no trace of an electromagnetic wave here, no Wi-Fi or hotspot, not even a telephone line. Nothing. Everything was as she had imagined, and it filled her with a deep joy. However, she knew it was not good news for Franck. Though he did not realise it, he was addicted, and she knew he would be furious – the man who was always on the internet, compulsively checking his emails and notifications, always waiting for news and lapping it up at the table and in bed, even while watching a film. In some ways, it was cruel to see him so disorientated. She knew Franck needed his phone for work and to keep in touch with his business partners. But she was still keen for him to try to live without it not so that he would give up the internet completely, but to gain a bit of perspective at least, and to find the peace he could no longer imagine. While she wanted to get away from harmful waves, she wanted Franck to stop worrying constantly about his job. Producers have no fixed hours, so the job takes over everything, and she wanted to see if he could manage to switch off. Sometimes a job takes up so much of your life that it consumes your very being, bringing its share of satisfaction but also constant stress. It was the first time she had seen him so destabilised, and the first time she had watched him from afar, standing out in the wild.