Up in the air, the eighth floor of a blue tower. The sixty-year-old marriage of Armando, the eternal proletarian, and Maria, the consumerist housewife, survives. They share their visions like partners in crime, turning daily life into a brief comedy with a running commentary upon what a decaying country still has to offer them. And all of that, they give it back to us, like if it were a mirror, where we can find us laughing at ourselves. The "screens", from where they extract their images, flood the place; be it TV sets, newspapers, radios or even windows overlooking the end of the river Douro and the beginning of the Atlantic Ocean. But while the clocks seem to stop, there are teeth that come up in dreams, pagan poetry, housewives' strikes, a music box that plays "The Internationale", and a grandson behind the lens who intimately gives us the chance of having a closer look at the way we really are.