From the far-off village across the endless plain before me, a tiny figure begins to move toward me. Takes one step in my direction, then another. One foot moves forward, then the other. He walks, knowing it will close the distance.

In this immense emptiness, where no other human exists, each step narrows the space between us. On the same earth, governed by the same physical laws, under the same sun, we move closer and closer. Time and distance are in quiet opposition. He walks, and walks, and walks. And I, captivated, do nothing but watch.

Here, walking is no longer just movement; it becomes an act of existence. He is as though this figure is the first human to rise and stand on two feet, trying to affirm his presence on this vast, silent planet through the simplicity of motion. As Frederic Gros said, his walking allows me to reconnect with a pure sense of being, to rediscover the quiet joy of simply existing, much like in childhood.