Nach zwei Stunden waren zehn Minuten vergangen

Eating, waiting, haircutting, cleaning, telephone—and bedtime. The perennial daily routine of a juvenile detention center brings about a clotting of time. Bodies are transformed into vehicles, lethargically moved from workshops to single-person cells, down hallways into outdoor areas, from armchair to couch. Nothing makes a difference. Breathing, walking, sitting, lying down again. Existence in a comatose state. The film observes this heterotopic cosmos, picturing a perpetual dissolution. It tells a story of bodies left behind, of an undefined longing. A longing for something different. For an outside so yonder that even the dreamers do not know any longer, if it has even ever existed as such.