In this distinct, sometimes poetic film, form and content are equally important. Every image is carefully framed and can go out of focus or rather re-establish it. In The Chirola, former convict Padro Cajias tells his story in a fragmented monologue. He saw his long incarceration among murderers, rebels and paramilitaries as a punishment. For him, it was a relief, a long vacation after a turbulent period. In addition to structure, life in prison offered him companionship and better health. He put on weight, worked out a lot, and actually had considerable difficulty when he became aware that his release was coming up. The last thing he wanted to do was exchange one prison for another. He received a puppy from an empathetic guard, and that puppy became his salvation. In Cajia’s mind, the dog turned him into a more civilized person; more civilized than he ever could have become among people. As a result, he didn’t want to reintegrate into society, but rather sought a place on the sidelines: a simple house with a piece of land where he can look up at the starry sky, his dog at his side.