A short story in three parts—verbally contemplating on the death of an insignificant person—riddled with self loathing of both the living, and the dead. For death is a bitter tasting joke with no set-up; only a shocking punchline leaving those who remain with the unbearable weight of grief and longing.
A fragmented, poetic essay film that drifts between memory, dream and hallucination, following an old man haunted by an elusive voice and a fading childhood. In a space where sleep blurs the border between the real and the unreal, the film contemplates family, loss and the quiet violence of growing up.
