In order not to lose their home, 17-year-old Raya and her little brother keep their grandmother’s death a secret. Raya tries every trick in the book to make it seem like she’s still alive, while at the same time fully indulging her feelings for her English teacher. But in spite of her best efforts, things are getting out of control. Raya hopes for help from her mother in far-off London.
Those who remain. It is a soft mud that Raya crouches in. A humid and familiar mud like that of the forest in which she lives with her little brother and grandmother, who seems to drag her slowly but surely into a whirlwind of lies about herself and about others, like the ones she has suffered since childhood without being able to oppose them. Mud as a metaphor for the cold feeling of often endless separations between those forced to emigrate and those who remain, in a soft waiting from which irremediable traumas emerge sooner or later.