red butter

Small and their dreams are small. A bigger oar's appearance. Fathers, mothers, football polluters, Monica Bellucci fans, the poor who subsist on one meal a day, seekers of freedom or identity... it doesn't matter. The boat has room for everyone. And the boat promises a beach. And the beach promises a new life.
From the impoverished neighborhoods of Tripoli, Lebanon, to the sky, and from there to the sea. They yearned to reach paradise, dreaming of a life beyond life itself, a life they would surely find there, beyond that vast blue expanse. But the sea is treacherous, the milkmen are treacherous, and the boat is a flimsy straw; only those who cling to it with their hands and teeth survive to reach the shore. Then, after all they have endured, they face the most difficult question: Is the sea still the sea, the dream still the dream, is survival still survival? Children with simple dreams. Adults burdened by complex fears. Fathers, mothers, football fans, Monica Bellucci admirers, the poor living on one meal a day, women searching for freedom or identity... it doesn't matter. The boat can accommodate everyone. And the boat promises a shore. And the shore promises a new life. From the poor neighborhoods of Tripoli, Lebanon, to the sky, and from there to the sea. They longed to reach paradise, dreaming of a life different from life itself, a life they would surely find there, beyond the vast blue expanse. But the sea has departed, and the dream sellers have departed, and the boat is a straw that saves only those who cling to it with their hands and teeth, to reach the shore and face the most difficult question after all they have suffered: Is the sea still the sea, the dream a dream, and salvation salvation?