How can one tell a story which is known from hearsay only? A story which was never written down, a story illustrated by hardly any pictures. The story of someones life which ends after twenty years in murder, a story, which survives solely in isolated, partially faded and occasionally retouched memories. The gaps are blank spaces on fragmentary historical maps projection screens for seemingly logical sequels and personal judgments. Andrina Mraçnikar received the story of Andri, her grandmother’s brother, as a child like parts of a huge and incomplete mythic puzzle which included Hitler, Jesus and Snow White. Andri, an army deserter who was hunted by the Gestapo and executed as a partisan in November 1944, played the role of the hero. And the partisan songs of the Carinthian Slovenes provided a personal soundtrack. Half a century later Andrina Mraçnikar collected the puzzles pieces and put them together with the intention of reconstructing a historically complete picture, but to enable the development of a story in a cleverly arranged interlocking of partial motifs and empty spaces. Rather than illustrating the factual evidence interpreted by the filmmakers unpretentiously thoughtful narration, the cameras gaze follows the complex traces left by the ensemble of memories, associations and vague speculations into the seemingly untouched landscape scenes of the present. In Andri 1924-1944 these traces, rather than leading to clearings which reveal past events to be a accomplished facts, are condensed in a finely woven textile of the concrete and the suspected in which the past is updated in the perception of its examiner.