Lacuna

If we all come from the same place, where will we go in the end? Dreaming in another dream, we see a broken clock stop at 4:48. Someone sleeps or wakes, and the body is immersed in a state of unknowing. Fragmented memories that we can never understand merge with abstract imagination. Every existing object and event becomes a metaphor: ordinary and naked, brief or perpetual. Lacuna is a monologue about a city, a night, a man in a suit, a boy with blue hair, a woman fallen asleep on a bus, a naked man from the sea. In the barren lands, someone returns or leaves with a suitcase, still walking until the next encounter. Departure may be a quest for the desolate land of fantasy within our minds.