In a forgotten corner of Puglia, Gianni wanders alone every day, searching for meaning in the grief that haunts him after the death of his wife Ada. His only daily act is to post letters in an old, rusty mailbox. Letters for her, which no one reads. Or maybe they do. One day, an unexpected response: a blue letter, signed by a stranger. Others begin to flock to that mailbox, each with their own grief, with words they don’t know who to address. Those letters, like suspended breaths, become a shared memory, a collective ritual, a cry and a caress.
