Ryan lives in Brooklyn and looks for a job, maybe in social media or something. He sits around the house, wanders New York City, and questions the point of his existence. Bridging experimental and narrative form, Lily is like attending a live string quartet concert that explodes into the visual field. The film flits to the future and past and back while an original score, written in the style of Béla Bartók, tells its own piece of the story. Draped in kaleidoscopic imagery and crackling with dark humor, Lily in the Grinder probes sex, death, and time. What if a human life is a static, four-dimensional entity that cannot be said to truly begin or end? What if we already are everything we will ever be?