Maxime had told him how appealing he found Victorien, his approach to women and his exceptional sensitivity to them. By reaching out to women with his fingertips, Victorien was actually trying to approach their souls with his own, which threatened to capsize at any time if he drew too close… He told him about his friend’s long stay in China and about what a good listener he was, about the gift he had for hearing words that could not be spoken, feelings that could not be expressed, sensations that could not be quieted. Then he told him how the small man had taught him to hear the shivers on skin when a caress raised a sound. And how desire is born, and also how it dies from being satisfied too quickly. And the reasons why he believed it must always be grazed but never touched, because, he said, it was made of ashes that the slightest stirring of wind could disperse...

Cécile commutes to work on Line 11 of the Metro. One day, crushed in at rush hour, she feels the most delightful, grazing sensation on her nipples. Then is astounded to realize that the sensation has been caused by a finger. The finger of a man about whom she wonders if he has placed it there on purpose. And so she meets the silent lover, who adores women and their breasts, and who initiates her and forces her – gradually and with consummate art – to abandon her inhibitions.

Just when you think you can grasp the impalpable it reveals itself, at the precise instant that it escapes from our grasp. Penetrating women’s bodies by attempting to accost their souls is surely the most tangible illusion that any man who tries to solve the feminine enigma can experience. A novel of initiation, full of poetry and eroticism.