A woman narrates the script of Gli anni, a few pieces picked up on the shores of a timeless Sardinia. Neither the words nor the images claim to tell the whole of its story: the places of the past emerge as reverberations of a fragmentary and shifting memory, bathed in a new light. Gestures, faces, scenes of family life, reassembled and disconnected from their original context, become expressive elements of a confession that is at once self-discovery and collective account. Bodies and shadows, small objects and landscapes of the past make up the verses of the story of a life, like a promise to be renewed, inscribed in the exchange between the archive and the word.