There are those who left, who tried to cross over to this fantasy elsewhere and who met with a vicious reality.

They come back, sometimes, not for long, for some rare holidays, and meet in the bars those who dream of going, leaving behind unemployment, leaving difficulties and horizons with no hope. Moments of sharing and confrontation, in a place where they can let it all hang out, a place where dreams and alcohol numb the real. The troubled daily life, the painful integration in that beyond, will not be said, as exile remains for those who would flee misery and a lightless life, the only hope to create themselves a future.