Latitude 48.8 begins with a line that crosses Paris without ever becoming visible: the 48.8th parallel.
I began using it as an imaginary point of reference, present on maps but absent from the city itself. A way of moving through Paris without deciding in advance what to look for.
I have known Paris for many years, and I needed something that would allow me to look at it as if I did not know it entirely. Following this line, familiar places began to lose some of their familiarity, and I found myself noticing small encounters: a figure, a wall, a printed face, a surface briefly crossed by light. Elements with no apparent relation that, for a moment, seem to recognise one another.
The photographs do not describe the 48.8th parallel, nor do they attempt to describe Paris. The line is simply a way of moving through space while allowing chance to become part of the way I look.
What emerges is a possible geography, made of proximity, coincidence and appearance: a provisional map of the city, built from what simply happened to be there when I passed through.
