Four Pills at Night

Countries appear and disappear— we could have just been one of them. Caught between visibility and obscurity, Kosovo’s underground music scene is the voice of a post-war generation grappling with isolation in a half-recognized nation.

Lake Fierza, high mountains on both sides and a small boat that breaks the silence of this small part of the world. Some movements can be seen. From a distance, the boat looks at people coming down from the top of the mountains and patiently waiting for the only transport that connects them with the rest of the world, almost unknown to them.

Tringa, Jeta, and Atdhe have never left Kosovo. In their twenties, they’ve spent their lives imagining the world through screens, grounded by visa restrictions. When they finally board a plane for the first time, the reality they encounter is far from what they imagined. Yet something shifts. In the space between departure and return, they begin to understand that growing up isn’t about where you go, but who you become along the way.

In the 90s, when the Serbian government forcibly removed students for opposing the curriculum, my grandfather and volunteers built new desks, ensuring education in Kosovo.

A year has passed since Blin mysteriously vanished without a trace. His girlfriend Dea, urged by her best friend Rrita, decide to travel together for the first time in Berlin to party for one night, hoping to find closure amidst strangers. Their desire to blend in the rave scene quickly turns into a nightmarish encounter of haunting familiarity. As the lines between reality and illusion blur, Dea comes face-to-face with a drag queen who bears a striking resemblance to someone from her past. In the midst of this surreal encounter, Dea is facing a life altering decision to break free from the past or remain trapped in its shadows.