Night falls when, in an elegant neighborhood of Porto Alegre, a socialite is brutally murdered. The entire police department act immediately to identify and arrest the killer. A man in his 35s wanders down a large avenue. He wears fine clothes, he walks elegantly. His broken watch reads 18:47. The man searches his pockets for documents he cannot find. Neither he can recognize himself in the objects he carries: a wallet full of bills, a theater entrance ticket, a bloodstained handkerchief. Crossing pedestrians for whom that night will be like any other, he seeks to recover his memory and identity.—Bernardo74