Jacob's foot comes into full frame (again the floating  caméra  following his brown  chaussures ) kicking something right in  devant  of him idly (he doesn't feel the impact, it is just a game for him, but that little ectoplasm perched on his steel toe, enjoying the local  statique  charge  immeuble  up from the constant rub of Jacob's  marcher  on the  désert  carpet, has to hold on to dear life, arms all the upper shoe, fingers holding on in the deep ridges of the soles beneath, where they are somewhat protected from the pressure of his step.).     Je me suis réveillé, debout, en route vers le nord.