During a professional conference in Prague, two interpreters in the Hungarian booth hilariously vie for the attention of one listener.

A deaf 4-year-old girl named Libby lives in a world of silence until a caring social worker teaches her to use sign language to communicate.

Fatma and her mother are Kurdish refugees living in Italy. One day at the hospital, Fatma learns her mother has breast cancer.

A man wakes from a coma speaking a fully formed but unrecognizable language baffling linguistic experts from around the globe.

My Baba Bozorg was a professor of literature in Tehran, Iran. He moved to Canada in 2002 to live with his son, my father. He spends his days, at large, seldom in his room on the top floor of our suburban home in Scarborough, Ontario. Primarily reading and writing, studying English, watching Persian films, following Persian news, and keeping company to our family dog, Oreo. He never misses his daily walk, morning and evening cups of tea, and telling me Dooset Daram (I love you) when our paths cross. He has watched me grow in this house for 21 of my 22 years of life. Our verbal exchange is remarkably limited given our understanding of one another. A bond I believe can be largely attributed to the beauty our language barrier allows us to see. Nothing about this film was coordinated or discussed prior to shooting. I saw him sleeping, and he woke up and saw me. The rest unfolded. No questions or hesitations.