An observation of the fragments of primitive culture. The fragments come together to form a myth about a "tribe" that dissolves in the snowstorm brought by the northern winds.

A meditative observation of the salt desert and the strange pilgrims who reached its very center. The desert lives according to its own temporary laws. Its main inhabitants are lonely yellow trucks and lost travelers, preparing to become part of an almost alien space.

If we imagine a space where the imprints of human existence are preserved, what would it look like? What form would these 'imprints' take? Lost objects are the silent traces of 'nameless inhabitants'—people whose stories we will never know.