The passengers of an evening flight have fastened their seat belts and
are ready for take-off. But the flight is postponed until the morning. The
passengers unfasten their seat belts again and leave the terminal. Drops of
slanting rain gleam under a streetlight. In a puddle two female silhouettes
are reflected. Two women, casual fellow travellers, embark on a journey
into the Moscow night. They change cars and their mood changes; they race
along the ring road and the boulevards; they cry and laugh: it seems they
can do anything during this strange night, as if they had dropped out of real
life. They can do anything: suffer, love, hate. There is only one thing they
cannot do: part. One single idea moves them, one passion: its name is MAN.