In a haunting incident on a dimly lit gravel road, a family is confronted with an unexpected accident when a stray dog runs under their vehicle. The father of the family, Eghbal, seeks help at a nearby auto repair shop. Unbeknownst to him, the mechanic, Vahid, is caught in a web of memory and fear as he recognizes the distinct sound of Eghbal's prosthetic leg. This sound triggers painful recollections of his own past, a remembrance of the time he spent in prison, where he faced brutal treatment from the Iranian regime but was never physically tortured in the conventional sense. Instead, the regime sought to strip him of his passion – filmmaking.

The narrative shifts to Jafar Panahí, a prominent Iranian director who has experienced the viciousness of the Islamic regime firsthand. Panahí's artistic voice has been targeted as he has endured imprisonment in Tehran's infamous Evin jail twice. Throughout his ordeals, he has managed to maintain his creative spirit against oppressive odds. Rather than breaking him, the oppressive environment around him fuels his imaginative capacity, suggesting a resilience that stands in stark opposition to the regime's intentions.

This article not only discusses the themes of personal trauma and psychological scars inflicted by previous experiences but also highlights the broader implications of artistic expression under tyrannical rule. The interplay between memory, survival, and art in the lives of those oppressed by the regime resonates throughout the narrative, posing profound questions about justice, resilience, and the role of creativity in bearing witness to personal and collective suffering.