“Kuçovë, Albania”. Or rather, Petrolia, Albania, a former oil hub now decommissioned. Petrolia is the place of childhood of the director who returns to Albania not to retrace the stages of her life, but to show a place in which historical and geographical coordinates are confused. The people portrayed are varied, grappling with the most disparate ways

Lucas and his writer friends spend their days in a hidden forest by
the railway. Yet Lucas senses a foreboding presence among the trees.
An unexpected encounter with a mysterious figure propels him into a
cathartic confrontation, balancing on the razor’s edge between fear
and liberation.

In the cold streets of a small provincial town, Giammaria and his group of friends spend the hours of darkness between the euphoria of alcohol and the torpor of heroin. During the night, an unanswered call from an unknown number leads the protagonist to take a twisted and fragmented path.

Children at play pretend the world into being. Fiction filmmakers do the same. In both, the boundary between pretense and reality is surprisingly fragile.