Yiorgos Christodoulou

Paris and Michaela grew up together, in a seaside town that smelled of salt, memories, innocence, but also lies, repressed emotion and repression. The two of them, tied by that thread that had no name. It was neither friendship, nor love, nor blood. It was all together. Until it was nothing. You don't kill love with a knife. You kill it with a word that shouldn't have been said. One sentence from Paris destroyed everything. She, who listened to him without being supposed to, left.

Strangers find themselves trapped inside five elevators that break down. Tension rises. There is no communication; just angry men and women bringing the worst out of each other. This is hell in 4m².