They loved each other with the ardor of thirteen-year-old boys. Rebellion and curiosity, hopes and doubts, girls and dreams of glory – they shared it all. Paul was rich, Emile poor. They left Aix-en-Provence for Paris and quickly became part of the art scene in Montmartre and Les Batignolles. They hung out in the same places, slept with the same women. They spat on the bourgeoisie (who spat back). They went skinnydipping, drank absinthe, starved, only to overeat. Sketched models by day, caressed them by night… Traveled thirty hours by train just to watch a sunset…


Now, Paul is a painter and Emile, a writer. Glory has passed Paul by. But Emile has it all: fame, money, the perfect wife, whom Paul once loved. They judge each other, admire each other, confront each other. They lose touch, meet up again, like a couple who cannot stop loving each other.