A call returns Manuel to the town. His grandmother Mima, who for years wrote him letters and reflections, is no longer completely present: her memories have begun to fragment. Manuel decides to read them with her to check what remains, and in that gesture she recognizes her own need to write. For three years he records a file that documents at the same time a relationship and its transformation. While Mima's voice goes out, Manuel finds in the music a way to sustain what is leaving: not to retain it, because he understands that that is not possible, but to accompany it while it is still there.
