Surrounded by sounds from a jungle-like garden, a woman inhabits the gloom of her bedroom, covering her body in roots. Her name is Celsa; she is 70 years old and lives immersed in her garden's vegetation, seeking remedies that will soothe her pain, the oblivion, and her recent past. A past stained by the confinement and torture she endured 45 years ago during the military dictatorship in Paraguay. From the intimacy of her plants and treasured files, Celsa keeps a wish alive—to heal her memories and get stronger while living in a present where the dictatorship's echoes reverberate and threaten to reinstate fear.

Celsa collects, grinds and soaks her seeds, sprouts and leaves. She evokes the pain again, palpating her muscles, feeling her skin. But in that atmosphere, loaded with steam and kitchen utensils, the sound of the rooms is suddenly interrupted by voices that fill the spaces of the house with news of the present. Speeches defending Stroessner's dictatorship and State terrorism resound. Obscurity threatens healing, both Celsa's and that of a people subjected to imposed oblivion. As night falls in the wooded garden, a breeze blows through, relieving and fusing itself with old tapes. On wet land, Celsa holds her body amid plants and roots, insisting on encountering herself and her own pain.