When you’re 17, nothing matters. The sparkle in your eye rivals the spangles on your prom dress. You play soccer with the energy of the child you still kind of are, despite yourself. Around a campfire on a hot summer night, your friends’ crazy words go to your head. You dive into the lake to show off, without a care in the world. You share your secrets like there’s no tomorrow. And the most inappropriate things make you crack up. In the tradition of direct cinema, Philippe Lesage spent a summer in Mont-Saint-Grégoire, in Quebec’s Montérégie region, capturing those magical, fleeting moments when the world of childhood gently slips away as adulthood appears on the horizon. In a series of impressionistic tableaux, bathed in warmth and tenderness, he immerses himself in the sun-dappled lives of a group of endearing young girls, including Laurence (nicknamed Laylou), the “character” discovered at the end of his last wonderful documentary, Un cœur qui bat. With sensitivity and a light touch, he sketches the outlines of a secret, joyous world, so quickly vanished but that lives on, cherished deep in our hearts.