Somewhere between Spain, Algeria and France, women leave their homes and go into exile. Together, these trajectories trace the contours of a story with holes. But as Charlotte Bonnefon reconstructs this fragmented family memory, other existences are superimposed on her investigation. These are the women—mothers, daughters and sisters—of Hassi Messaoud, the Algerian capital of black gold. One evening in July 2001, their lives are turned upside down. Yet, in the face of men’s violence, lips parted and rustled, silent hands touched and gathered. A whole constellation of images emerges like a shimmering refrain: plants and flowers, a desert and its oil wells, women weaving together. Gradually breaking down borders, Nos invisibles sketches out a genealogy of bodies, souls and lands that is as gentle as it is powerful.