I think that we are on a beach.
There are people buried under large piles of their own memorabilia, as well as the weight of their self-importance. Have they been washed up onto the shore, or are they waiting for the tide to take them away?
An old woman, wizened, appears pushing a perambulator. It is choc-a-bloc with paraphernalia that she has been collecting on her travels. She has been following the white lines that run down the middle of the road. She has passed through all their lives. A very autobiographical film dealing with the filmmakers ego, family and travels. – A.K.
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