Recently escaped from home, a young woman finds herself traveling with a young sculptor in search of a water source. Burdened by their own solitude, they accompany each other through barren, arid landscapes, where the earth seeps in as both boundary and bond between them, feeding their inner fire. Meanwhile, from the depths of a mysterious abandoned tunnel, a call seems to rise…

DIRECTOR’S NOTES:
The film seeks to quietly insinuate itself into a relationship with ambiguous boundaries, impulsive and intense, as repulsive as it is magnetic. Along this journey of unveiling vulnerability, the two characters collide with different ways of resisting it, and therefore of resisting each other. As a result, the spectator’s body is also drawn into this silent game of attraction and repulsion.
The chosen aspect ratio, 1.66:1, mirrors this ambiguity: positioned between the intimacy of 4:3 and the openness of 16:9, it allows the image to oscillate between enclosure and breath, much like the shots themselves. The desert reflects this same ambiguity and emotional nakedness, acting both as a symbol of emptiness and of an imminent catharsis, also due to the instability of its boundaries. The protagonists’ encounter, sudden like a mirage, forces them to confront themselves.
The film represents my attempt to explore a relationship with a bare, truthful land, and to understand how dissolving into it enables a deeper self-reflection. This is the experience I went through during this immersion, and the one I sought to convey to those who embarked on this small yet vast journey—inside a car with many, many mies still ahead.
The only way to connect with something that was already embryonically within me was to first engage directly with that visceral sensation that so deeply interested me; everything else would follow naturally. For this reason, as a director, I chose to expand my role and take care of several aspects of the film beyond directing (including location scouting, music and sound design, and part of the editing), shaping a unified path that was never solitary.
Among these elements, the work on sound design holds particular significance. Thinking about sound was constant and perhaps the only true guiding light during moments of confusion and darkness in the writing process. In parallel with the screenplay, I continuously developed what I like to call a “sonic direction”: an alternative narration of certain places or elements that were meant to remain grounded in reality visually, yet transcend it on a sonic level. As an invisible, evanescent presence within a territory of unsaid meanings and polysemy, the sound design ultimately coincided with the collapse of the film’s masks, enabling a more genuine search for identity.