Here I long for it, there it drowns me.
This film does not have the shape of water.
With this contradiction the film moves in the contemporaneity of different continents and realities minute by minute. Between the blind and helpless attempts of human beings to achieve empowerment. Also against disarray.
Nothing flows, nothing adjusts. The question about the intention of scenic approaches, of the intensification of found moments, proves futile. At the same time, however, something superior emerges: the landscape of detritus becomes accessible. Something intrinsic can be conjectured. Blind attempts to stem the flow of water or to conjure it – and: how does it really sound?
Thirst arises. Blind, raging thirst. The desire to lean on something, to hold tight, to orient oneself. Grasps at handrails remain illusion. Like blocks of a rock, some individual of the episodic approaches hint at a possible origin in their angular and fragmentary way.
Not a pseudo-esoteric element! Rather the film unfolds the naked and cold power of water over life. No, there are no handrails in this landscape of detritus. You will have to traverse it by yourself…
Enjoy the journey!
(Translated by Daniel H. Wild)