On Christmas Eve in Paris, four friends in their late twenties—Stéphane Hubert Benhamdine, Joëlle Stéphanie Daub-Laurent, Xavier Thibault Vinçon, and Sonia Jeanne Candel—set out for a day-long walk through the Parc de Saint-Cloud, a journey that threads together the present with memories carried by Sylvia, Stéphane's sister who has been missing for some time. The day’s rhythm is braided with Sylvia’s voice-over, recalling a dream in which a woman who looks like her calls out to the group, and with a photograph taken years earlier of the five friends during a sunlit summer on Primrose Hill in London.
The film opens with Sylvia’s dreamlike narration, in which the familiar face of a woman—herself—sings a melody that feels almost sacred, a tune she suspects the whole circle once played together. Back in the city, the four friends begin their walk after a music rehearsal, and it becomes clear that their shared artistic dream has stalled. Joëlle, a teacher pursuing a long-delayed PhD on Balzac’s La Comédie humaine, laments that their conversations keep circling back to music. Xavier works at a local media library and vents about the pretentious customers who cross his path. Sonia remains the only one still performing, though she faces pushback from Stéphane and Xavier for “selling out” by joining a ragga-muffin band in Marseille; to make ends meet, she also participates in paid medical trials.
Along the way, a series of encounters punctuates their day and highlights the shifts in their lives. Stéphane suggests an impulsive visit to the house of an old acquaintance, Marc, where they learn he now has a two-month-old daughter. Marc’s partner explains that he’s out playing football in the park, so the friends head there. During the stroll, Xavier receives a call from Mehdi about his brother Riccardo, who is in the hospital after a six-story fall from a balcony.
A telling moment unfolds during a conversation between Xavier and Stéphane: Marc was Sylvia’s boyfriend for four years before they broke up a year before she disappeared. The group soon finds Marc in the park playing football with a friend, and they join him for a nostalgic, melancholic game that stirs memories of times past.
At an outdoor café, the mood shifts as the friends confront their inertia. Stéphane urges them to “shake themselves” and restart their music careers, yet the others feel tethered by real-life responsibilities. Joëlle points out that each of them is anchored by something: Xavier to his library job, Sonia to Marseille, Stéphane to his work on soundproofing, and Joëlle to teaching and her stalled thesis. They later visit the hospital to see Riccardo; Xavier and Sonia go inside, while Stéphane and Joëlle stay outside, trading small talk in the doorway.
As evening drifts in, the group begins to split up. Xavier heads to work, and Sonia prepares to chart her own path. Stéphane and Joëlle continue walking in the dark; Joëlle asks about Sylvia, and Stéphane reveals that police had a false sighting near Dijon months earlier, but he knows there is little good news to share. Joëlle encourages him to open up and suggests they meet again after their family dinners.
That night, Stéphane quietly reaches out to Joëlle by throwing a pebble at her window. She lets him into her childhood bedroom, where record sleeves line the walls and the space feels intimate and lived-in. Their exchange is awkward at first, then tender, and the kiss that follows marks a turning point in their long-standing friendship.
Stéphane makes his way home to his parents’ apartment, where he finds both of them awake and watching TV. His mother seems unwell, and his father reveals that she recently visited Sylvia’s empty apartment, returning with Sylvia’s notebooks. They have reread them, finding only diary entries that stop the day before she left, and his father offers Stéphane a place to stay while he pursues his music anew. Left alone, Stéphane pores over Sylvia’s notebooks, searching for clues that might illuminate her vanishing.
The film closes with Sylvia’s final voice-over, which sounds like it could be an entry from her notebooks. She speaks of deciphering the melody from the dream and linking it to their Primrose Hill trip and their “musical cartography of the city”—a map of places that appear in the lyrics of their favorite songs. As she speaks of the vivid colors and bright light of the old London photograph, the image lingers, then freezes on the four friends walking together in the present-day Paris winter park, a quiet testament to memory, art, and the enduring pull of shared history.
