Iridescent waves, geometrical gardens and spiral-shaped sand dunes can be found in the microscopic structure of a crystal which this film brings to the screen in extreme enlargement. It portrays the shapes that connect the minuscule and the gigantic across all dimensions, showing us the material of our world – and its intrinsic beauty.

A raven perches in the lemon tree near the house, giving away an egg. The narrator’s voice remembers childhood like a dream. Emotions from back then find physical expression in a constantly changing room. Growing cracks in the wall, proliferating colour stains and crumbling pieces of furniture let the eyes and ears touch interior worlds.

Only light lifts the outlines of the world from darkness. In cyanotype, light-sensitive material is used to make white drawings materialize on a blue background. Tata Managadze challenges the light-sensitivity of our mind. She uses reflections and mirrors to expose the sensitive, gossamer-thin material of association in ways that make ephemeral memories and emotions visible. The poem at the beginning tells us how soothing and at the same time brutal her protagonist – light – can be. Like children in a playground, we are seduced by and forever searching for the dance of lights. Flower patterns on the dishes in the sink begin to spin when our eyelids grow heavy and sleep is approaching. Everything moves. In the transitory state between waking and dreaming, a different kind of life stirs in the prefabricated building estate: The stars of the restaurant leap from the sign and scratch traces into the wall. Or are these scars that must still heal? Perhaps scars from the Soviet era?
Again and again, well-known fragments are re-assembled. This non-narrative animated documentary takes us on a spiral of remembrance to an untraceable origin, building a bridge to our childhood ability to find magic in the most mundane things.