Producer
The journey back home has been a recurring narrative ever since humans started to tell stories. Because going back to one’s origins is always related to identity, a dilemma that never ceases to hit close to home
Producer
A couple builds a space to live. When it is finished, before inhabiting it, they invite a group of people to visit it. The invited people circulate individually through this new and empty space. They look, they walk, they talk. The film tries to rescue the effect of that experience in each one of them. So the space itself becomes an experience. What will they leave of themselves? What will they take? What will they show of the human? What is a house? What do you do with the past? The series of people who briefly inhabit that place, recently built, still free of all traces, could be thought of as infinite. The space fills and empties. The residual of that transit remains: a luminous fragility.
Executive Producer
The poet Salvador Merlino didn’t live to see published April’s elegy, his last book, as he died when
it was still in the printing press. His daughter Mary (72) and his son, Carlos (74), kept the parcels of
copies of their father’s book stashed away for 50 years, high up, on top of a wardrobe. The curiosity
of young Federico will force them to come face to face with themselves.
