A poetic and penetrating look at the old slaughterhouse in Quito, and the work routine. When you go to Quito's slaughterhouse you can see the emotional detachment with which living animals are turned into meat for mass consumption. At the end of the day its a job like any other, a routine. The smell of the place is tepid and penetrating, the noise is loud, the colour red dominates. And in this place, which to the naive observer is terrifying and nauseating, hundreds of people come, including entire families, to earn a living. Couldn't so much effort, so much death, have an ulterior motive?.