Eight people embark on a long journey on foot. We know neither where they came from nor where they're headed to. They are traveling to escape an impending catastrophe. In this resilient, stubborn, circular walk, they make space for the imagination and for wonderment, like artists from a decadent circus who are melancholy but full of hope. And they sing.
They sing to scare their evils away, to lighten their burden. They sing because cicadas sing. They sing just as Gal Costa sings in her album Cantar ["Singing"], released in 1974 at the height of the military dictatorship in Brazil. A song that is a cry for freedom in times of war, religious intolerance, and violence, when societies and their states attempt a return to authoritarian policies of silencing and killing. They sing as a form of resistance. They will keep singing even if the circus loses its big top, even if seas flood cities, even if humanity unlearns how to love.
According to Greek mythology, 12 light-years away from the Earth, on Tau Ceti (a star in the constellation Cetus), there is a miraculous medicine that can cure human sadness. Perhaps that's where they're headed to.