New York witnesses the anonymous mass of people going by without leaving any marks, in a permanent circulation to nowhere. In this poem-film, through disjointed fragments, Akerman looks for something beyond the cavernous loneliness that emerges from the crowds. We hear the letters from her mother, following one another like the people in the street, like the trivialities of life. We are in 1977 and there is an economic crisis, Akerman jumps from job to job and her mother complains about her health; the city empties itself. (João Araújo)