Summer

In the hazy heat of an August afternoon, Annette drifts in a sun‑drenched room, her thoughts as light as the perfume of garden strawberries. Wrapped in a white dressing‑gown, she savors the distant hum of Paris, the distant bells, and the gentle rustle of leaves, feeling a quiet harmony between body and mind. The narrative paints her world with a delicate, almost tactile awareness of sound and scent, creating a portrait of a woman content in her own serene reverie.

Into this calm enters Sylvie, Annette’s sister, whose impatience and urgency clash with the tranquil rhythm of her sibling’s days. Determined to pull Annette toward a more conventional path—marriage and social expectation—Sylvie’s sharp words and bustling energy disturb the stillness, revealing a tension between personal freedom and familial pressure. Their exchange, charged with affection and frustration, sets the stage for an introspective summer where the sisters must confront the limits of desire, duty, and the elusive pursuit of inner peace.