In a farmhouse kitchen on a summer night, with frogs croaking loudly, an old mother washes her hair. She wipes her face with care, as if dusting off the accumulated years. In the mother's heart, there is a son who sits like a main beam... But now, the once-great son lies before his mother as a corpse. The son arrives at his mother's, as always, by bicycle. The indifferent chime of the clock sounds. The son's time also rides away on the bicycle. The departed son. The mother's stopped heart. The mother grabs the pendulum, stopping time.