I'm an immigrant in France, originally from Benin. When I came here to study about ten years ago, I had neither family nor friends. Since then, time has passed, and I've settled in.

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I'm sitting at my computer in the open-plan office with its large bay windows and plush carpet where I work. I'm bored, but I can't move, nor pace up and down to the coffee machine (I hate coffee), nor pick up my cell phone. In this kind of place, my colleagues are watching my every move. You absolutely have to give the impression that you're very busy, even if you've already approved your to-do list early. So, I let my mind wander. I think back to the obstacle course that led me to this precise place; to my childhood, my family, my friends back home. I remember that winter morning when, wearing my Parisian working-girl boots, too eager to get to work, I slipped on the icy sidewalk; the result: I ended up in the emergency room with a broken nose. I was so angry! I'm sick of coats and slipping; being warm all year round is definitely better.

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This is how the idea for the character of Faty was born. What does this ambitious young woman do next? Like many others, she moved to the West to pursue a successful education, found a job, obtained dual citizenship, and built a social circle. The range of possibilities is now greater: to stay, travel the world, or return to where she came from.

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The film focuses Faty on this crossroads of questions that is a current reality for the African diaspora. Even though living standards and salaries are significantly higher in the West, they are tempted to be with their loved ones again, to share moments with them that they have lost for several years. On the other hand, many preconceived notions about Africa hold them back (a land of failure, endemic unemployment, an invasive community, etc.).

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For the film's main character, it's a tragedy that puts an end to her hesitations: she's coming home! The audience discovers at that moment a pretty, determined thirty-something. How determined? Because whatever the reasons behind these returns, goodwill and love for one's roots don't exempt them from the difficulties to come.

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By following Faty, we learn—as I myself bitterly experienced—that returning to an environment, a culture, a family after years abroad isn't always idyllic. One can suffer from misunderstandings, rejection, and certain quirks related to one's dual culture. And at the same time, we rediscover a beloved country left behind that offers moments of incredible grace that even the locals themselves are unaware of; as if having seen another world gave you new eyes to better see your own.

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The characters who evolve around Faty each embody, with their own attitudes and discourse, the sometimes curious mentalities of a Benin that oscillates between tradition and modernity. But for me, there was no question of dramatizing. My guiding principle during the writing process was to denounce without judging, to reveal with a slight hint of irritation, and above all, to take the audience on a journey to a country that offers images of daily life and magnificent landscapes. Faty's journey must touch us, speak to us, remind us of our own journey, in short, we must find ourselves in it.

This film is a fiction in which the main character, shaken from his bearings, ends up letting go. It's a first attempt inspired by the work of great cinematic minds that I admire.

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Faty is an endearing character, and the film's finale culminates a personal reflection. In my opinion, leaving, returning, staying, here or there, we are at home everywhere, even if we each move with a part of our roots. And no matter the direction we choose, there is light at the end of the tunnel. This light, personified by Faty's crush, reminds us, once again, that love has no boundaries.