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Jorge has no money or insurance when his wife needs heart surgery, so he decides to rob a bank.
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In an unknown first world airport the arrival of an ecuadorian flight is heard. The 'members of the European Union' passby migration, while the 'others', in the other line, wait. In the middle of the claims, a group of ecuadorians is arrested. They are taken to the Room, where they wait to be deported. Seems like everyone hides something, like PROMETEO the youn magician with his hands tied like a delinquent who has a 'magical' trunk as luggage. Time passes, a way of being, Ecuador happens in this waiting room. Seems like there is no possible exit. Meanwhile, a different but well-known way of life takes place. The only thing left as a promising way out is illusion.
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If films are memory, what happens when a film is lost? If films exist only in the memory of those who were able to see them, does the filmmaker who created them even exist? Bitterness and nostalgia cut with discarded frames, Gustavo Valle saves shelved and dampened traces of film confirming that: "It was", that "It existed", that "It exists", that "It is".
