memories spoken are falsified through abstraction
by creating a film based on abstraction, I seek to define the essence of the memory
to make it more true than it ever was
a mystical fantasy to remember her
The film tells a story of a room in my old house where my mother would escape after tucking me into bed.
She would walk down the carpeted hall to a room on the end.
Filled with a smoky haze, lit only with the moonlight and a small red light from the radio, the room cradled her.
Vibrations of jazz melodies buzzed in the wall by my head.
She hid but within that space the lived ever more.
en memorium, mom.
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