For the Time Being

In the heart of Madrid a ravaged forest lays calm in the aftermath of the storm. Shepherds, sheep and dogs roam among the branches of uprooted trees. Above them, the city resounds with birdsong and underneath we hear the murmurs of the herd. Old walls, new barriers enclose this territory. At night its borders dissolve on the hilltop. Under a black sky the contours of its inhabitants emerge. The land rings out and the city glimmers.

Marion experiences a day. It could be yesterday, but not tomorrow, because at the end of the day she is dead, stumbled in a moment of routine.

A young girl packs her things. Without a word, she leaves her parents' holiday home. On a country road a car approaches: a young man. He takes her with him. They drive along the Nordic coast. Surrounded by the slight noise of wind and rain, and the sound of tires on concrete. In sight the open soil, faint dunes, waves breaking at the shore. Black. From the backseat the girl sees the young man: He gets into his car, he drives off.