The Crack of Dawn (2004)

It is end of February, maybe November, the peppers pruned, the acacias, the gargle's, the lilacs and cleaned eucalyptuses from the dead lops. Big piles from well smell lops were stacked in the rills of streets front in each house, under familiar trees. Then the place still was full from eucalyptuses, ancient pines and other uncultivated, cause it had lost the loggos completely, mountain did not have completely recede slope, wooded foots, ravines with the cypresses and with oleanders and somewhere white trembling. Today, doesn't remind the past. Now everywhere exist irons and cement, fume and ash and various substances; they keep you in the life or to you they create a virtual focus life. Where is Helen? Was she lost?