I meet Marie-Claude in a dead end of a countryside road in the Monts d’Arrée of Brittany, France, in April 2014. « Do you want to see my dolls ? » she offers, waving to help me find my way back. In her home filled with mountains of junk I discover a world I will never leave. It haunts me and fills me with joy at the same time. This 75 year-old lady, woodcutter, ficherwoman and seamstress, is endearing and scaring at the same time. She is touching me, waking parts of me. She looks a little bit like my mother sometimes and a lot like me.