Waiting, waiting, waiting. This is the main feature of the lives of a group of men and women, brought together by fate, who crossed the sea in search of a better life. They live in a no man’s land, somewhere on the coast of Spain between long rows of hermetically sealed greenhouses. Every now and again they get some work, but most of their time is spent in little ramshackle shacks built from pallets, bits of tarpaulin and anything else they can lay their hands on. They have no interaction with the rest of the world at all, although they occasionally refer to some shady lawyers who are supposed to be working on residence permits.

Tra le serre, in un mondo coperto di plastica, crescono piccole baraccopoli, case per uomini e donne che hanno attraversato il mare in cerca di una vita migliore. Cercano di ricomporre i frammenti di un mondo che sembra essere perso per sempre. I giorni passano in attesa di notizie sui documenti e il lavoro. Il ritmo dei gesti quotidiani blocca le persone in un flusso del tempo, strangolando la loro rabbia.