In today's society we are daily invaded by images of beautiful and young bodies. Older bodies are hidden and forgotten as if they were steeped in negativity. In this film we are faced with these bodies, naked and happy, on a day-to-day of a beach in Lisbon area.

One day almost everything turned into a pile of rubble and bush. There remained ghosts wandering through the fields, the ruins and the fog. Some of these ghosts are alive. They are those who stayed, those who came back, those who roam the difficult memories of the most cursed neighborhood of the city. Only that this Tarrafal, the name of the field of slow death of Salazar's dictatorship, is not in Cape Verde but in Portugal.

At the ritual celebrations of Saint Bartholomew of the Sea, disillusionment helps the feet enter the cold water. It's like a whisper, indifferent to the distorted music that echoes round the beach. Disillusionment makes these people beg to heaven what they cannot achieve on earth. How many are the dreams they dare not dream?