A story that begins in the twentieth century and ends today - or rather, never ends: the woman who starts in 1910 from Adrianople, reaches Thrace with many stories following her. She passes through Macedonia, Thessaloniki, and Athens through other women and their own stories, against the backdrop of a Greece that is constantly changing. Women fall in love, have children, work, separate, live, and breathe while behind them there are population exchanges, wars, protests, revolutions, and civil wars.
Each story unfolds within what we call a "historical framework," but in reality, it is our own lives. The framework of our lives is always historical because everything happens while we fall in love, separate, argue, grow, and generally live. Just like the heroines of "The Dust of the Day."
What remains is life: the beautiful days, the brightest ones, the ones we remember until the end. They turn to dust, of course, because nothing withstands time, let alone a day... but through the dust of each beautiful day, something else is born, the next one, a series of beautiful days waiting.
And this, as a whole, is our History.