The man can hear the voices. The sound of children laughing. He lives alone in a monochrome house, and spends his evenings in front of the television, joylessly watching anything that happens to be on. It is a lonely existence, bereft of all pleasure and meaning. It is not living, but simply existing. Until he hears the voices. Leaving his house in search of the source of the strange disturbance, he stumbles across an abandoned playground, hidden away from the rest of the world. It is this playground that will reacquaint him with the simple pleasures of happier times, and the pure and unadulterated joys of a forgotten childhood.