Radomir smokes yet another cigarette right down to the filter. On the fortieth day of the fourteenth year he has awoken once again in a wilderness, Rohypnol and Leponex are on the menu and beyond this nothing, except more boredom.
Since 1992 Radomir and twenty other Bosnians - most of them psychiatric patients - have been locked up behind bars in a Hungarian refugee camp. How did they end up here in the first place?
Radomir remembers the grenades, the shelling of their old clinic in Bosnia when the war broke out and reports: "We were hustled into a bus at night, 'we're going to escape!' yelled the psychiatrist". They ended up in Hungary and have been there ever since, cared for by two nurses. Radomir says: "They will come for me one day. I want to go back to Bosnia, to die there". Still now, fourteen years later, no one has come for him and the others, why?