From the very beginning, director Gabrielle Brady constructs a hypnotic vision that immerses us in the daily life of a Mongolian family. With great sensitivity and a close, humanistic gaze, she crafts a hybrid film that weaves together fictional scenes created in collaboration with the protagonists. With a steady and profound narrative rhythm, Brady alternates between moments of the family's daily work—such as herding sheep—and instances of intimate familial joy. She does not shy away from blending lighthearted happiness with the weight of drama, as seen when Davaasuren, the father, discovers that a sandstorm has killed much of his flock, or when he is forced to sell his beloved horse in order to move to the city. The character wrestles internally with the uncertainty of the future and his deep attachment to his surroundings, and as viewers, we accompany him on that emotional journey. The strangeness of this new and hostile urban environment allows the director to introduce a poetic note: the dreamlike return of the cherished horse in a symbolic sequence that suggests a glimmer of hope amid the displacement.

For the artistic quality, intensity of narration and direction together with the protagonists and joint screenwriters. For the way in which it recounts the ancestral bond between human beings and the force of nature, vital and at the same time regenerative. A hybrid film, falling somewhere between fiction and documentary, in which the power of personal tragedy becomes a universal metaphor for the effects of climate change.

A delicate, powerful and symbolic film recounting the effects of climate change on a family of shepherds, a community and a whole world that is disappearing, touching on the often forgotten but crucial issue of climate migrants.