Three minutes at Laplanque — the autumn light coming over the ridge, the long horizon down toward Toulouse, the call of the red stag at first dawn. The film is a love letter, more than a brochure: an attempt to show what cannot be said about a place that has belonged to one family since 1350.

It was shot over a single October week, between hunts. The cinematographer asked only that we walk, and watch, and not speak. We have tried, in the rest of this site, to keep that same posture.