In the Urban village of Beshenkovichi, time flows slowly, like a thick fog wrapping around old, dilapidated houses. People don't live here — they survive. Every day turns into a struggle for existence, where hope was eclipsed by the gray clouds of everyday life. those living in this small homeland come to this understanding: life is not a holiday, but the expectation of tomorrow.
Children play in the dusty streets, but their laughter is full of anxiety, as they have been accustomed to a lack of prospects from an early age. Adults, tired of the endless routine, rush to work in the morning... In the evenings, sitting on wooden benches, they share dreams of how wonderful it would be to leave this gloomy corner, but the fear of the unknown shackles their hearts.
Here, in Beshenkovichi, time freezes, and people, like shadows, exist in a state of eternal lack of love, hope and warmth. In this forgotten place, even dreams take the form of dreary expectation, through which everyone passes, leaving only footprints on the dusty ground.