Amid the ruins of a society with no more messages to communicate except an inexhaustible thirst for money at any price, flit shadows that do not hesitate to use violence to scrape together a handful of worn banknotes. However, if one of these shadows is your father it’s hard to pretend you didn’t see and keep on innocently playing. The temptation of learning what it means to have your pockets full of money and bend others to your will is too strong. But is it worth it? Wouldn’t it be better if you could get lost in a warm embrace when you come home in the middle of the night?
