celluloid.

I’m trying to find an answer, a way to make sense of it, but always in vain. I didn’t make this to shame you, or to laugh, or to point fingers — only to understand you. With every glimmer of hope, we fall right back to the beginning. Maybe this is really the reality we both have to accept?

An intimate 'poetic' that goes back to the roots of a filmmaker's identity and the quest and drawbacks associated with it.

a poetic glimpse into an inevitable faith waiting to eventually become everyone’s fear