What if a demon crept after thee into thy loneliest loneliness some day or night, and said to thee: "This life, as thou livest it at present, and hast lived it, thou must live it once more, and also innumerable times; and there will be nothing new in it, but every pain and every joy and every thought and every sigh, and all the unspeakably small and great in thy life must come to thee again, and all in the same series and sequence—and similarly this spider and this moonlight among the trees, and similarly this moment, and I myself. The eternal sand-glass of existence will ever be turned once more, and thou with it, thou speck of dust!"—Wouldst thou not throw thyself down and gnash thy teeth, and curse the demon that so spake?
Friedrich Nietzsche. The Joyful Wisdom
The Eternal Recurrence comes to us in the shape of a filmic reflection on the role of the human being and their destiny through the routine, conversations and movements of a group of young sub-Saharan migrants in a well-defined space for the universal imagination, but clearly misplaced: a forest lit by the full moonlight.
The wind blowing through the thicket seems to arrange ideas about their family, rites and history. And the sound full of life and mystery that awakens and multiplies in the dark seems to prevent them from talking about what is most necessary in that context: about light, about dreams.
That forest and that night do not belong anywhere and are not located at any time, they can be any spot and any time throughout the vast journey and the terrible experience that our protagonists seem to be condemned to live cyclically.