Genoveva, 16, lives in a small Bolivian shithole of a town in the 80´s. Her obsession is time. For how long it takes an ant to cross a leaf from one side to the other or the time it takes for a glass of water to fill. In the loneliness of her adolescent days, her adolescent hours, her adolescent minutes, Geno tries to survive the nuns at school, her hostile classmates, her hopeless parents, and men with guns. “What rules “The Shithole” are the drugs and the mediocrity”, she repeats constantly. Everything is registered in her diary and in her memory until she meets Hernán, her mother´s spiritual leader, a young foreigner who has recently arrived in town. For Geno, it is something that leaves her breathless, shakes her, steals her thoughts and gives her pleasure; but not like the pleasure of spending her afternoons with her ailing but bewitching grandmother, Clara Luz, or that of changing the diapers of her cherished baby brother Nacho, but rather like something she had never felt or imagined before in her life. In the 473,040,000 seconds that had elapsed since the day she was born: Love?