My grandfather made a film in 1926 about his (unfinished) village project Les Fonts. In this piece he used some fragments of the enclosures where roses were grown (respecting the original intertitles of his fim). The bourgeois women of my family are depicted as happily domesticated as "roses among roses," because men did the important things and inherited the land. The women of their time were raised like flowers: they had to be educated, fine, and kind to serve the taste of men in power. They could not get out of the margin if they did not want to be marginalized. In this piece, I contrast images filmed during the confinement of the streets of Les Fonts, where no one cut the weeds and flowers grew on the sidelines of the roads. A parody, a game of contrasts: cultivated flowers, domesticated to serve the patriarchy, and wild flowers, free in thought.