LIMONE is a restrained, poetic character study following Marino, a middle-aged man drifting through Venice while quietly carrying the weight of unresolved grief. He moves through the city without urgency, observing rather than participating, numbed by a loss he has never fully confronted.
Over the course of a single day, Marino’s emotional detachment is tested through a series of small but charged moments: a tense interaction in a neighborhood pizzeria, a fleeting connection with a street musician, and private rituals that hint at a deeper wound beneath his composed exterior. These encounters do not push him forward dramatically, but they press gently against the walls he has built to survive.
As Venice hums around him—beautiful, decaying, alive—Marino’s inner life begins to surface. His grief is not explained outright, but felt in pauses, glances, and silences. The city becomes a mirror: stunning yet fragile, suspended between preservation and disappearance. Marino, too, exists in this in-between space—unsure whether to remain emotionally submerged or risk resurfacing.
The short film unfolds with minimal dialogue and an observational gaze, allowing the audience to sit inside Marino’s solitude rather than be guided through it. Meaning emerges not through exposition, but through behavior: how Marino reacts to kindness, how he resists vulnerability, and how close he comes—perhaps for the first time—to acknowledging the depth of his loss.
LIMONE is a meditation on grief, masculinity, and presence. It asks whether healing begins with grand gestures—or simply with the courage to stay present long enough to feel again. Quiet, human, and emotionally precise, the film serves as a self-contained story while standing as a proof of concept for a larger exploration of redemption and connection.