An intuitive gate opens as she steps onto the sand and leans against the edge of it. Wearing a red jacket, she stands barefoot watching the waves trickle to the shore. She stares at the Parisian blue sky.
In the wintry blue light, she stands on the edge of a rock, reaching out with her hands.
Early morning, hair wet from the river, she lets the water run through her hands.
In a hat and white blouse, she walks through a field.
Wearing a white dress, she balances herself on a swing made from trees.
She dances underneath a sky blue arch and jogs across the sand in her red jacket. Turning herself over, she floats in the river. After running in the field, she leans against the sky blue arch.
In the dining area, she sits in the booth, uneaten entrées in front of her. Rows of empty champagne glasses fill the table. She lies facedown on a lounge chair, tea and ice on a tray beside her and then flips forward, facing the sky. She pours herself some tea and adds a dab of honey to it.
In a boat, she holds onto her hat as the breeze rocks it while in the forest, she shoots fruit off the tree. She stands up in the boat and then reads a book. In the study, she dodges a swinging lightbulb and then cups it like a microphone.
During a bonfire, she dances among the sparks, She takes a swig from the champagne bottle. Underneath a net, she touches the mesh protecting her from the sun. She lets her fingers graze the fire. She breathes by the lightbulb, touching it with her fingers and smacks it. The lightbulb rocks back and forth after she has left the room.
There is no one to be found. Life seems to have paused on the particular beach. She searches the fields everyday, waiting for an animal to spring up. As each season passes, she realizes she isn’t ever going home.
In the fall, she clutches her red jacket to her chest, watching the sky. Although the murky clouds promise rain, it never comes. The mild chill throughout the winter is a brash reminder she is still by herself.
She survives by shooting fruit off trees and combing through the fields for edible plants. Her stomach growls for a raw piece of meat, roasted potatoes with garlic and a tiramisu for dessert. However, the trek to the restaurant is long and would take days.
Once at the restaurant, she cooks up several dishes, her eyes wide with hunger and lines the champagne bottles in a row on her table. The illusion of company calms her crazed mind.
Each day without company dissolves her hope. In an empty room, she lets the lightbulb swing, wanting the vapors to flow into her mouth, ending her misery.
Director: Grant Singer Year: 2017
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