A rundown neighborhood, a dark alley, a parade. Men who are like shadows, ghosts enveloped in the night, advance slowly. We see a wounded person, and later learn of his death. The atmosphere is heavy, ponderous, referring to the sources of tragedy but also to the noir films of the Golden Age of Hollywood. We're in Portugal, but we could just as easily be in an underworld alley in New York or a suburb of Los Angeles. Lateral cut, ellipse. We find ourselves on the airport tarmac, also lit up, leaving the background very blurry, as if the night is engulfing everything. A woman slowly gets off the plane. We learned that she was Vitalina, the wife of the deceased. She arrived very late, so she missed the funeral.
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