Milk

One filmmaker sets out on a journey to discover the mother she never knew. Like the ancient Japanese art of kintsugi, the act of piecing back together all the scattered, jagged, and broken bits of her mother’s life somehow helps her make sense of her own, but like the act of filmmaking itself, it is a journey that will never feel complete. One filmmaker sets out on a journey to discover the mother she never knew. Like the ancient Japanese art of kintsugi, the act of piecing back together all the scattered, jagged, and broken bits of her mother’s life somehow helps her make sense of her own, but like the act of filmmaking itself, it is a journey that will never feel complete. One filmmaker sets out on a journey to discover the mother she never knew. Like the ancient Japanese art of kintsugi, the act of piecing back together all the scattered, jagged, and broken bits of her mother’s life somehow helps her make sense of her own, but like the act of filmmaking itself, it is a journey that will never feel complete. One filmmaker sets out on a journey to discover the mother she never knew. Like the ancient Japanese art of kintsugi, the act of piecing back together all the scattered, jagged, and broken bits of her mother’s life somehow helps her make sense of her own, but like the act of filmmaking itself, it is a journey that will never feel complete.