A complex reflective essay about the work of American artist Cy Twombly. Twombly doesn’t appear in the film, but his canvasses are woven into a fiction about a man called M, who confronted the painter’s work and then disappeared.
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It seems that he's the most unjustly ignored filmmaker from the recent British cinema, but i only have seen this movie as single author. But, what a surprise!, in a film of a complex composition that seems to have found in Borges/Bioy Casares and "F For Fake" the reason for an endless drift, endlessely , multi-access platforms and corridors, which from the paintings of Twombly finds the cosmogony of thought.