When the camera gazes from the deck of the ship towards the endless horizon of the Mediterranean, the picture of a woman who travelled restlessly across the world takes shape. Elisabeth, Empress of Austria, who gradually disappears out of the picture as it were: from the age of 30 she refused to be photographed any more.

Ruth Beckermann goes in search of this woman who refused to take her place in the corset of society and who created the myth between a fairy-tale Cinderella and a depressive puppet of the monarchy.

In Egypt, which Elisabeth visited twice, Ruth Beckermann finds the scenes and timeless moments that allow a glance through the surfaces of meaning. In the oriental bazars and the noisy streets, behind the high-rise dormitories on the periphery of the cities, where apocalyptic columns of smoke rise from the archaic potteries, present and past overlie one another like the images of a kaleidoscope. The camera slips into the role of a fláneuse, who without losing sight of her goal, surrenders herself to the chaos of the streets and derives more pleasure from the details of everyday life than from the famous monuments.

The montage of images from this journey to Egypt and the interpretation of the written descriptions of Elisabeth and her Greek companion and reader are the components of a reflexive essay on foreignness, on the power and limitations of the image, on myth and reality.