Some autumn afternoon, an elderly man appears in the village. Some recognize him and claim he had been seen the previous winter overseeing the work in the tower, standing on the edge of the great upheaval. The King's Resins is a mythical tale. On one side, a scruffy old man who once was king. On the other hand, a fat man who seems to be Gargantuan or a farmer who smiles holding a wine glass in his hand. The storyteller tosses the coin into the air, and, as it rotates, reveals through stories and mystic family stories images of a country of impoverishment, caught in unemployment and new migration. During one year, the shaky world is suffering as an unrecognized disease behind its curtains every day: towers, kings, daughters, giraffes, power, treason, blood... all this until the coin falls to the earth, there on the carthage of fertility and tomb. There in the village, old Exarchus, the autumn visitor, as time becomes available, plays his last card. In the café, facing the ordinary laughter, he begs for the last chance he will have to renovate the world through the health of wine, flesh and love.
