In the drought-stricken lands of Turkana County, the sun is a hammer and water is more precious than gold. Zola, a young woman from the Turkana tribe, walks miles to the only working well, knowing it sits on the dangerous borderlands of the enemy Pokot tribe. When she arrives, she is not alone. A woman from the opposing tribe is already there. With no men and no guns—just two women and a rusted, heavy pump handle—they face a choice: hold onto the history of war, or work together to survive the day.

The Amazon River at night is a cacophony of jungle sounds and pitch-black water. Thiago, a boat pilot, knows the dangers of the current, but when his engine dies on Christmas Eve, he finds himself drifting helplessly in the dark. Alone, with the rain pouring down and the river spinning him toward the unknown, he spots a faint spark in the distance. It isn’t a city or a harbor, but a flickering light on a rotting dock. This is a story about the terror of being adrift, and the humble lights that guide us home.

The heat in Buenos Aires presses against the windows of the nursing home, where Valeria sits in her wheelchair, her dancing days long behind her. To the staff, she is just a number on a chart; to herself, she is a history book gathering dust. But Lucas, a young orderly with untucked clothes and a mop in his hand, knows a secret. He knows the music of the bandoneón. When he plays an old tango on his phone, the sterile room transforms, and Valeria is reminded that the dance doesn’t end just because the legs have stopped moving.