In a homey apartment, one family's history unfolds around a dying patriarch. Memories, voices, laughters and, somewhere, the wound of the Shoah.

In the window of a Brussels apartment appears a woman dressed in a bathrobe and draped in her memories. She has just lost her husband. So she spends her time on the phone, talking to her daughters and family members scattered all over the world. In this maze of voices, she describes, with the delicacy of a musical fugue, the emptiness all around her. Beyond the unutterable Shoah and the silence of its survivors, she tells of her solitude and the arrangements she has made with life: memories that "feel good in her bones" amidst the banalities of everyday life. A tale of grief sublimated into words, A Brussels Household is an intimate conversation with the open book of family memory.