In a context trapped between times, where aversion between whites and blacks seems to reappear; Jeremy, a senior diplomat, is willing for a mission in Africa as part of the pacification of racial hostilities. Far from him the desire to solve the discords of lunatic people who have no other obsession than to crepe the bun on the sole basis of their skin color. On the contrary, it is a new opportunity given to him to discover the intimacy of new silhouettes to fulfill his sexual addictions. However, his crazy passion for new horizons is less shared by his wife. And if ever, Marylin lied to herself tolerating her husband's vices, she hardly felt the desire to relive the sins she had buried under the silence of Senegal.

Apparently, a legend gnawed at the customs of the country.

Apparently, the MCGUIRE were far from suspecting that they would be the protagonists in the pseudo-suicide of a stranger.

Apparently, a spirit came to shout revenge against destiny that defeated him under the blows of his dark symphonies.

Apparently, we can love between two dimensions, between death and life.

Apparently, God would have punished those who loved upside down.

Apparently, we would all be addicts, that only a sin is the redemption of another, that marriage is a bet where there are only losers.

... When the suicide of a martyr becomes the agora of our demons and the pact for our redemption...

But, all this remains only blocks of appearance!

What would you do if you learned that the most beautiful story of your life was only the maneuver of a bipolar crisis? That your most beautiful love story was only an idyll of blur, in blur?

So, every reality may not be, in the end, true...

"And even on your last note, I loved you in the blur"