On an December alcohol-filled evening, Zero challenges a field crane to a duel. He loses the combat—and his right leg. Huge reevaluation of life, death, and his relationship with cranes.
No more alcohol, no more recreational-chemical therapy. Zero is condemned to squatting couches at social gatherings.
So he starts recording the edifying conversations of the buffoons who surround him on a small Dictaphone.
The device quickly fills up with small semantic miracles, discussions about the cosmos, the origin of time, and café calva. Ça Ne Fera Rire Que Nous is not even an embryo yet, but its small atrophied heart is already beating.