A seven minute cinderblock. I remember the ghosts that live with us; I recall their playfullness in our unhome when we aren't there.
Everything in this world is too subjective? This animation is garbage. This animation is gorgeous. Somehow, the broken English adds to the couple's separation. What would regularly be a spelling critique is a compliment. Being home is a flight through the cosmos. Home is the cosmos. Home, the home of frowns. Able from childhood to marriage soar, soar, soar. That chord strikes too close to m'heart. Fleeing from the home?
I remember childhood. I remember when everyanything was possible. The sombre, minimalist music sets their curious monotony well. The story is poetry. The backgrounds need improvement (it's easy to tell you put more effort into the rocking chair, sofa, and easel than the forest and home walls; perhaps to paint the couple's value in materialism than their relationship?)
I adore the walking animations, though. The sky she flies through is the bricks of the room he paints in: a liberation and imprisonment, from which his shadowed lover a flower gives; a nourishing aide to fix their decaying romance. I remember solitary confinement. I remember dreams.
Fantastic Flash, Ida.