like many others. a trip . like a lot of movies. a new Babel. but in specific way. a poem. about maternity, search of sense and broken bridges of soul. nothing more. story of three mothers in different places of world. and same problems, answers and tragedies. like game of mirrors. like hided arena.a young man in Thailand. his questions, quests and discoveries. and a strange pen. nothing else. a puzzle and definition of globalization fruits. or only reflection of same need of sense who makes heart of every society. who makes hours, months, years, decades of each man and woman.the axis of that heart is always the child. a child. who may be promise for better life. who must be legitimation of present sacrifice. who gives force in every difficult moment. a prey, a pray, a promise and perfect victim.so, the virtue of film is game of nuances. delicate. subtle. cruel. and wise. far from a moral lesson. but, with a very good cast, a letter to public.