Time advances and leaves traces, in the bodies, in memory, in the cinema. A child grows up in an uncertain world, while his father, camera in hand, tries to capture that moment and build a bridge to the future. Between fragments of life, reflections and farewells, the question arises: how to raise a child in a time marked by collapse? Far from the noise of the city, looking for another way to inhabit the world, the director receives a visit from his father, a man who once lived in cinema and now carries the fragility of the years. Between grandfather and grandson, the director discovers himself in transit: still a son, now a father. The skin is a portrait of love as a refuge, of memory as an anchor and of cinema as a witness.