To the west of Ireland there is a shifting island, difficult to access, which appears every seven years and hides the largest of the emeralds. According to the legend, whoever manages to arrive will display his feat in the eyes of his children, who will then have one leaden eye like the North Sea and another the color of emerald. Every night, Margareth and her sisters fall asleep to the sound of this story –the Irish myth of Hy Brasil-, without suspecting that the island is also the prediction of her expanding world. When, at the beginning of the 19th century, the crisis of a famine-stricken Ireland forced hundreds of families to rebuild their lives on other continents, the Cunninghams looked for a future, to the west, in Brazil. There, Margareth stars in a deformed nursery tale: an exodus that perpetuates her spirit and exposes the painful expiration of the flesh. Nara Vidal reconstructs an individual, female and collective migration, which reveals to us how all exile is the arrival at an inland port. As Margareth migrates round the world, we retrace the path of her equally rounded womb, the crooked path of her faith, and the cyclical path of human cruelty. Luck is a wheel that crushes us and leads us through a hiatus –through the fertile stretch that exists between the feat, the gestation and the tragedy-.