Le vertige c’est l’angoisse, un état d’égarement, une folie passagère. Ce sont les hommes qui tournent en rond. Pris au piège dans cette ville-labyrinthe, Pointe-à-Pitre cette non-ville, les errants la traversent le jour et la nuit en marchant retournant dans les mêmes lieux comme un pèlerinage sans fin. Je m’interroge sur ces errances urbaines. Et moi, pourquoi j’éprouve le besoin d’errer dans les rues de Pointe-à-Pitre. Je découvre un sous-monde, déstabilisant, où la violence imprègne les êtres. Et le fléau du crack. Et la folie qui menace.
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