The personal stories experienced by the Uncle, the Father, and the Son, respectively, form a tragic experience drawn along a line in time. This cleft line resembles a wrinkle in the family album, but also a crack in the walls of the paternal home. It resembles the wound opened by piercing a mountain, but also a scar in the collective imagination of a people, where the idea of ​​salvation finds a tragic destiny in political struggle. What lies at the end of this line? Will the old war songs be enough to overcome this fate?