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"Tomorrow ..." is the word said by many people who feel impotence to deceive themselves, because of cowardice to confront face to face their circumstances in life. As Don Felipito, the beggar who never had the decision to measure their forces as a writer against publishers and tries to survive by selling combs that nobody buys. As also peaceful Silvestre, watcher on a biscuit factory, who feel the vocation of music, but never wanted to break the siege of daily obligation. Or the pair of nighttime lovers who wrote their story in the walls of Barcelona. Or the poor clown who does not make anyone laugh. Dreamers who face their existential emptiness, a lack of vital consequence that has left them prostrate.