A film essay that intertwines the director's gaze with that of her late mother. Beyond exploring mourning and absence as exclusively painful experiences, the film pays tribute to her mother through memories embodied by places and objects that evidence the traces of her existence. The filmmaker asks herself: What does she owe her mother for who she is and how she films? To what extent does her film belong to her?
A promise to his mother led him to become the best musical and movie star of the Golden Age of Mexican cinema; his songs and characters went around the world, and when he seemed to have everything, death tragically took him away.
In the town of Xoco, the spirit of an old villager awakens in search of its lost home. Along its journey, the ghost discovers that the town still celebrates its most important festivities, but also learns that the construction of a new commercial complex called Mítikah will threaten the existence of both the traditions and the town itself.
Emmanuel receives the news that his father won't be able to pick him up after school, so he must return to the taxi that his mother requested. However, not realizing it, he gets into the wrong car, which leads him to put his life in danger. He manages to escape from the fake driver and when he gets home he reflects on his own life and his faith in religion.
On Cuauhtémoc Avenue, near the intersection with Reforma Street, a trio of musicians arrives—members of a fara-fara group. They wear their hats, shirts, belts, pants, and boots. They play the accordion, the bajo sexto, and the tololoche. However, they play for a city dominated by traffic, cars, honking horns, and people rushing from one place to another—a constant movement brought on by urban life, in a space filled with buildings and concrete.
