An unexpected break-in at the old abandoned factory reveals buried memories: strange rustling noises and human echoes emanate from the walls, silent witnesses of a life crystallised in a time outside of time, in which even History seems to have been overcome by oblivion. Memory is no longer a word, but the echo of a word. It’s no longer music but the reverberation of a sound. It’s no longer a text, but the fragment of a speech: a metaphysical mosaic about memories that tend to be erased.