While the city is living one of its usual days, the life of eight people is passing by. Street life, slow life. There's a lot of time to deal with, for people without a job or a place to stay. A daily constant walk to the same places (station, library, churchyard), tirelessly doing the same fundamental rituals, waiting for the inexorable progressing of the clock. There is plenty of time for drinking, eating, singing, washing, and make any gestures, even the most private ones, under the eyes of other people passing by in a hurry. Eight different lives, eight different stories, related one another through the continuous journey everyone has to cope with. Sometimes together, sometimes in a couple, most often alone. But there's a place, where the city ends, like a neat line that you can't cross, where everybody lie on the ground in the same way. A place where one can easily blend with the others, and enjoy the experience of passing unnoticed. Because even if people can own their small pieces of the city, the sea belongs to everybody.