London to Paris. A road trip with strangers along the French freeway. From out of the gloaming, shapes emerge; suburban visions with all the power of a desert mirage. Are they instances of real magic or of self-fulfilling prophecy? Such a large crowd of spectators can’t all be wrong about the heavy sheet that hung in the sky unsupported can they? How is it that scenes from a nocturnal fever dream can re-emerge in a simple card trick? And what about the boat that flew?