During a pleasant conversation about photography, Edouard Boubat once told Bernard Descamps that photographers, in the end, circle endlessly around one and the same photograph: a kind of perfect image, a grail we never quite reach, which would amount to an ideal self-portrait. The great American portraitist Richard Avedon said something similar: in his portraits, he claimed, the other person is a mirror of his own states of mind. Descamps takes the thought further here, reflecting that every photograph is, in some sense, a self-portrait.