Six Months in a Pink and Blue Building

The day Bruno turns eleven, two discoveries arrive at once. He realizes he is in love with his best friend, Vladimir — and, in almost the same breath, his family learns that his father has been diagnosed with HIV. In the Mexico City of the early 1990s, where the illness still means fear, silence and stigma, the news sends the household into a spiral, and each of them looks for a way to carry the pain. This family's way is the way of salsa songs: to keep singing and dancing, as if music could hold the world together a little longer.

Thirty years on, Bruno Santamaría Razo returns to those six months and films them. Coming from documentary, he builds a luminous hybrid — scenes of that childhood interwoven with real testimony, his own parents looking straight into the camera — until the line blurs between what happened and what memory has since reshaped and forgiven.