Lying on the bed of a small room, a man is in a stalemate, unable to decide. Time is suspended within and outside of him, in the minimalist room and in the geometric city. In between this another man observes, side by side with some red dried flowers. Inaction. Pushed by disgust and despair, a very brief glimpse of an exit seems to unroll: between cycles of analysis and broken sequences, the possibility of mistake.