An actor prepares the monologue he will perform before the audience in just a few days. He has written it himself, based on what his family, who comes from the same village as the character he plays, “the gravedigger,” has told him over the years about his grandfather and the character he now embodies.

Today he has gone to the theater to rehearse alone, hours earlier than scheduled, and to run through the play. The character he portrays must bury, as he does every day, the executed individuals brought to the cemetery. Among the corpses of that day, he recognizes a friend, also a neighbor from the village, whom he believed was dead at the front. He vents to him about his situation and what he is doing, risking his own life to help the families of the executed identify where they have been buried and be able to recognize them when the occasion arises.

The rehearsal is interrupted several times: phone calls from the director of the production and calls to his mother, who, due to the current deterioration of her memory, will maintain some differing details compared to what he thought he knew about his grandfather and the gravedigger’s deceased friend. A version that will make him doubt what the real truth about the events is.