In São Toméan culture, úlulu is the burial ritual of a baby's placenta and umbilical cord in the family's large backyard. According to older generations, this ensures that children may grow up and travel the world but will always know how to return to the land where they were born.

In this staged conversation, three voices evoke music, movement, poetry, and landscape in search of threads of transmission and nourishment, while speculating and repeating rituals to harmonize collapse and regeneration. They raise questions: What if belonging to non-human geographies is a solution to the looming extinction? How can this be done without wasting the memory of rituals essential to this transformation? Where can we leave clues for an eventual escape toward return?