Faced with the possibility of migrating, this brief travel diary evokes an intimate country of illusions and mirages, awakened by the fear of leaving.

A director tries to express his chaotic ideas about fire and the country through a documentary, a fiction, a correspondence.

The same asphalt without blood. The bullets whistled very close, today the children aim fake. I was in Monroy, they brought him from Tracabordo. The names are underground, the ruin dissipated in a few days.

After four years without visiting her homeland, Orangel returns to record the places of her memories: her grandparents' house, her deceased great-aunt's house, her childhood best friend's house, and the bay. What is not precarious is uninhabited or broken, like her childhood photos and those of her deceased mother, objects that she takes with her.