Childhood, no matter how terrible it may be, cannot be black and white - some of its fragments are still remembered as bright and colorful. There are two of them - mother and daughter. They don't have names. They run - constantly, without stopping. The mother runs away from her daughter, abandoning her to her grandmother, in search of herself, love, life. The girl runs after her mother because she cannot imagine herself or life without her. Their run is an endless series of repeated cruel mistakes: like the melody of a barrel organ, like the rotation of a top - the ridiculous only toy that a mother gave to her daughter in childhood. But one day this rotation ends...