Roberto Collío

After a fire destructed my house, I return to the places where I grew up looking for childhood recollections. In this journey appears the memory of a photo for Karin Eitel, a young woman, tortured and detained during the dictatorship, to whom I owe my name. A story that my parents never told me, brings me closer to Karin and not just because of my name. In the background, the memory of a childhood in Chile, a country that reconstructed its democracy omitting its own history.

A dialogue between the collective and the personal, a living memory that combines the dreams and realities of the Haitian community residing in Chile. This dialogue is guided by the voice of Wilner Petit-Frère, a Haitian immigrant who observes and captures, in a print publication, the society where he ended up living in this stage of his life.

The mourning for a father and the absences, intertwined with what remains. Letters, written by birds that used to visit the filmmaker when she was a child, now reveal secrets to her son, whom she watches grow up.

Photographic and sound story, through the encounter of characters with their stories of a time without end.

Impressionist portrait of a landscape forged by tragedy. A ghostly wanderer among the vestiges of a story where 44 young soldiers and a sergeant were pushed to their deaths