What is the inner life of the people we see in the streets of the Raval like? How do they talk to themselves? In what language do they do it? What do they dream? How do they dream? What world is hidden in the eyes of an old lady we meet in the street? Or in the eyes of a pupil in a classroom in a school in the Raval? What stories do they tell? In what languages do they tell them? How does one think, speak, dream in the chorus of the streets of the Raval, this little Babylon inside Barcelona? How are we at home in a language? How does a language become a new home for oneself? What is the true reality of the language-home in the Raval and of the language-exile? How does the language of the street sound? How does the language of the street sound from one street to the next? How does the language sound in our inner home, in our dreams? La Flor de Lotus opens in the heat of these questions…