The moon rises above the Pont d'Arc, lighting a path hollowed by frost and erosion above the valley of the Ardeche gorges and leading to the original entrance of the Chauvet cave. A voice speaks to us, the voice of the cave itself: like a sleeping beauty drawn out of a very long sleep, it tells its story in fragments, from its creation by running water thousands of years ago to the arrival of the first animals, in particular the bears that took refuge there and whose comings and goings polished the walls, and on to the first drawings traced with a finger, with charcoal and with ochre, and to its rediscovery. Passing from the starry night to the inside of the cave, the almost cinematic black and white pictures bring out the glittering of the concretions and the coolness of the passages. The accompanying text answers the pictures like a song, and the two together ask what still binds us to ancestors of thirty-six thousand years ago, and what secrets a cave closed to the public may yet give up.