A woman is living at present in the splendid centre of a modern city whose architecture has preserved the spirit of classicism, that is, an illusionary bastion against the modern world, collapsing a little bit every day. This works until the day when one of those wars that usually happen "somewhere else" invades the bastion through a mistake of geography or time. Missiles don’t care what they hit. Their bombing of buildings from all centuries leaves in ruins any illusory escapism. The glory of the Empire is vanishing faster than ashes falling back on the remnants and the dead.