¿Qué soy, un ciervo?

Standing on the school stage, dressed in her mother's gold nightgown and wielding a hairbrush as a microphone, a twelve-year-old British girl is about to become Céline Dion. The music stops, and she ends up singing a cappella before a thousand people. It's ridiculous. But brave. And also a revelation: what happens when we unreservedly reveal the most sentimental, intense, and vulnerable parts of ourselves? Years later, that girl moves to Frankfurt to work as a video game localizer. Translating from Japanese means adapting words, references, and emotions from one world to another, but she soon realizes that she's also trying to translate herself: reinvent herself, fit in, become someone lighter, more confident, more authentic. It's then that a chance encounter on the tram—a stranger returns a forgotten umbrella—triggers a year-long obsession with love, for which she finds solace only in karaoke sessions, where pop songs cease to be a guilty pleasure and become a form of truth.