Like a glazier reconstructing a mirror broken into a hundred shards, Eduardo Moga assembles a portrait of his father, thirty years after his death, from tiny sharp fragments of memory. This is no idealized patriarch...
To counterbalance the hierarchies and justifications of modern life, there are voices raised in protest, like Eduardo Moga's, which don't mourn a presumed lost golden age ... That phase was left behind for Moga long ago, and we must presume he underwent an apprenticeship of disappointment: the discovery that the gods do not love us...
En el ano 2013, impulsado por un entorno laboral y politico agobiante, Eduardo Moga, como tantos otros espanoles, decide emigrar. Su destino: Londres; su objetivo: una nueva vida; el resultado: Muerte y Amapolas en Alexandra Avenue.
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