Hunger

One morning, Sylvie wakes up to find a note confirming the inevitable: her partner has left her. After years of companionship, she is now facing solitude for the first time. Daily life feels overwhelming—the sheep covered in filth, the rotting vegetables in the garden, the mud-caked boots, the damp clothes that never seem to dry, the gnawing fear, the suffocating isolation. Desperate to make some extra money, she decides to offer her services as a private detective, even though her only experience comes from devouring classic crime novels. Her first case—a series of brutally slaughtered cows—leads her into a web of secrets and pain. The desolate landscape looms over her like an unrelenting wall, and loneliness weighs down on her like a curse. She doesn’t know how to be alone. She feels hunger, but it’s an empty kind of hunger—one without dignity, without comfort, without anyone to hold her hand. It’s a sickness that dries out her skin and seeps into her veins. It’s not the abandonment that tortures her, but the certainty that this solitude will drive her mad. Soon, she realizes that the idea of absolute love is nothing more than a childish fantasy and that, once the fairy tale is over, a journey of revenge and transformation begins.