Romania, 1970. In the heart of the Danube, the paradise island of Ada Kaleh yields to the brutality of the Communist regime, ruled with an iron fist by Nicolae Ceaușescu. A magical little enclave, a European Atlantis inhabited since Antiquity, the island is then home to an endemic population of Ottoman culture.
In order to build the most powerful hydraulic dam in Europe (the Iron Gates), the crowning image of his power, the dictator orchestrates the deportation of its occupants and the total destruction of the island.
A symbol of unique beauty sacrificed on the altar of an autocratic regime, Ada Kaleh now lies under thirty metres of water, its ghosts haunting the river.

A modest little square window in the center of the black screen lets out fragile, trembling archive images captured on the day of Ada Kaleh's destruction.
The film broadcasts shot-by-shot visual fragments pulsating in the dark. We see small houses, stores, a tree... blown up.

A young woman and her double are murdered in a lush natural setting on the banks of the Danube, at two different moments in history experienced simultaneously.
This sacrifice-like event triggers visions that seem to emerge from a buried double-memory, sucking us into an apnea journey,
to the sunken territory of the island. The entire film seems to contract, pulsating in the grip of an obscured memory shaking its surface.