Seventy years have passed, but Nijolė still doesn’t speak Spanish very well. Maybe it is a question of resistance, or yet another facet of her stubbornness or an unconscious attempt not to forget her origins, which her worn-out memory, at more than 90 years old, threatens to forget. Nijolė doesn’t really like people. She is provocative, an artist, an iconoclast; much of which was inherited by her son, Antanas Mockus. Along with the peculiar relationship between mother and son – in fact Antanas is the film’s guiding force – their communication and lack thereof, the memories of a Lithuania that, in times of war, had to be fled from, her artistic works and her written reflections, this film has the same irreverent, strong, and somewhat disperse character of the fascinating woman it portrays.