In a big house whose furniture hides secrets, every morning, the solitary
grandmother humors the small fixations of old age and rummages
among the drawers and kitchen cupboards. Her days pass in solitude
and each gesture can take all the time it needs; the old woman doesn’t
overlook a crumb on the table or the leaves that have fallen onto
the white family tomb in the cemetery. Her life passes tranquilly,
with sporadic visits by her daughter and the occasional small
resentment, until one morning her life is completely changed.