On the world stage, a dance appears as an extreme attempt to save memory.
Alba is the photograph of a memory, the testimony of a journey.
Albania represents the silhouette of a place, vanished amid confused purple and striped images. In the living room of the house, figures hidden in a distant time take shape: a ship smells of concrete, the forest is silent, three shots, the sky.
While waiting, a family remains motionless amid the smells of the past and the calm sea. In this fleeting moment, the ancient flavour of a house from another time takes shape, which here seems like the present time and confuses us with the impossibility, here possible, of going back twenty, thirty, forty years.
Through archive images and the gestures of a body that remembers, Alba constructs a dance before the light, in the glow of a beginning, and pursues the wide-open evidence of a cry of return, until the time when every spoken language seems the same.