Every morning, Cécile takes her car to do her rounds as a nurse in the countryside around Bordeaux. Acting as a presence that is both distant and reassuring, she treats, bandages, washes, soothes, combs, dresses, scrubs, wipes, jabs, probes, watches her patients. And she listens: to their thoughts, their pains, their stories about past and present. The most trivial and intimate care gestures become as natural as being at the hairdresser's. They chat about this and that, about serious and not so serious things, they joke as she washes their backs, their armpits, their bottoms, their stomachs, their genitals and the rest. For most of them, she will be their only visitor that day.