When the first flocks of golden snow start to fall where summer and autumn merge, nothing is what it seems. An unknown body is found in space, apparently without any movement.
Moving between the worlds of Dalí, Magritte and the present, where an apple can not simply be an apple, we are looking for the balance between care and reality. Sailing on the sensorial stimuli of applesauce in a sea of apples, the movements grow further and further away from the fruit. Carefully weighing history and the present, looking after the other and one’s self.