Gabriela has lost her dog Porro and is looking for him, helped by a childhood friend. The plot is as simple as pie, a beautiful pretext for setting off to meet a working-class neighborhood in Chile, of which Beatriz Arias paints a vivid portrait in colors, in a few sensitive, lively and precise strokes. The empathy that one can feel in the face of the dismay of the main protagonist remains in the background as the figure of the lost dog and the cinema share here in harmony and with joy the same movement: wandering. Of course, Porro is missing. But according to the canine point of view invented by Beatriz Arias, Porro is happy, returned to the sovereignty of his wandering pleasures of rummaging through trash cans or teasing a cat. And this is how the camera (and the spectator), freed from any narrative stake, can let themselves go to search the streets, to intrude into the interiors. And to pick up the soft grace of two young women who exchange a ball on a soccer field under a bright sun. That of the round arms of other women who prepare pies in a small kitchen. That of the smiles that a bingo evening brings together around large mixed tables. Here is a tender and sincere attention paid to simple gestures as to people, in which a nostalgia is also lodged. Whether the latter is for childhood or an immemorial plenitude, what seems to be sought in Volver a recorrer las mismas calles is ultimately not so much a dog as the way of being to grasp the fragile and vibrant poetry of the moment. Beatriz Arias composes an ode to the stray dog , and in doing so to wandering, the only one capable of putting us on the path of encounter and joy, of random surges "ahead of ourselves".