It is there, standing on a rock that separates reason from audacity, that the dangerous choreography of cliff jumping is played out. Like tightrope walkers, these teenagers from Marseille and its surroundings flirt with eternity and become,for a moment, heroes.

From the steep cliffs of the Côte Bleue, Port-Miou or the edge of the Corniche Kennedy, young people in search of meaning have found their terrain, where a dangerous game of escape takes place. Escape from oneself, escape from everyday life, escape from the limits imposed by conventions and fear. Up there, on these makeshift headlands, young people find a haven of peace where only the wind and the void are capable of sweeping away doubts and where the cry of the heart “fuck your mother” resonates much louder than the little inner voices that populate our consciousness and remind us of our concerns.

The practice of cliff jumping independently paints the portrait of a generation that has difficulty finding its place and which, for the time of a jump in the air, dares to abandon itself and celebrate the intensity of the present moment