This bed of greenery does not suggest abandonment but expectation, a vegetal buffer overlooking a vast interchange ringed by towers, against which the historic axis of western Paris broke off. On this stretch of motorway returned to a wild state, Cyrille Weiner reads a force of destruction and renewal: sap pressure cracking the asphalt, shifting sand destroying retaining walls, plants gripping the motorway parapets, all communicating, overflowing and unfolding on infrastructure shaped to human scale. The wasteland, with its tangle of plants, converts the territory into a free zone open to many uses, where a few men reclaim their time, energy and imagination, observed here in a reality filtered into an end-of-world, paradise-lost fiction.