In 1970, Georges Simenon is called to the bedside of his mother. Eight days, remains with her to the hospital. Three and a half years after his death, he wrote this letter. The author attempts to
understand without judging, his relationship with his mother, relationship where love is
absent. Robert Benoit, while sobriety and restraint, renders us
beautifully all the intensity of this face to face and force of
glances exchanged; up to the eloquence of their silence since even in the last week of his life, the mother and son is speak not. And if the author suggested us that we do
know our loved ones never really, a question keeps coming:... is they are loved?