I thought I knew Nour and that we loved each other. One day, with tears streaming down her face, she confesses that she has already buried hundreds of corpses. She is surprised that I am so shocked by this revelation : « Why does it matter to you ? There have been so many others. I myself have died seven times, in my country they call me the Cat ». She becomes suspicious of me, as though I wanted to steal her memories. I decide to go to Lebanon in order to investigate her seven deaths, but without her I cannot do anything. I begin to recreate her story in miniature. I make figurines in our images, in order to dive deeper into her memories.