Over there on the platform opposite Saint-François, rising out of the cracked ground where no one walks, a silhouette utters gently. It is a large poplar, for a long time sad and disillusioned, forgotten by the city and its inhabitants. 

However, thanks to Aurore, Milo Martin’s statue that is lounging a few metres further down in her relaxed classicism, the tree has found new impetus. There is a form of complicity between them, a silent conversation. For her, the poplar would lift mountains. 

For the moment however, it is mainly lifting the concrete that is cracking at its base: its roots spread towards the sky, and a whole garden has rushed into the cracks.