Logline
The conversation is largely with himself. Somewhere in a lonely landscape, in a humble cabin, an old man sits at the window. A mobile phone is on the table, he’s waiting for a call. In the meantime he talks to himself, since his wife is far away, in hospital. A spider weaves its web on the ceiling, a water kettle simmers, time passes. A composition of exquisite moments of melancholy: a lament for the absent wife and at the same time an ode to being together.
Synopsis
The conversation is largely with himself. Somewhere in a lonely landscape, in a humble cabin, an old man sits at the window. A mobile phone is on the table, he’s waiting for a call. In the meantime he talks to himself, since his wife is far away, in hospital. A spider weaves its web on the ceiling, a water kettle simmers, time passes. A composition of exquisite moments of melancholy: a lament for the absent wife and at the same time an ode to being together.