Mother, I Am Suffocating. This Is My Last Film About You.

The wastelands and crowded streets of an African country are traversed by a woman bearing a wooden cross on her back. She is followed by sellers, beggars and passersby, outraged voices, pity and curious glances. Parallel to her, among a herd of sheep, a lamb toddles its way from the far away mountains into the heart of the city, only to find itself dangling, skinned and headless, on a butcher’s shoulder. In the meantime, under the scorching sun, in a roofless house, a woman is persistently knitting a garment, unwinding a thread coiled over her son’s face. ‘Mother, I Am Suffocating. This is My Last Film About You’ is a symbolic social-political voyage of a society, spiralling between religion, identity and collective memory. “I saw in you what they saw, mother. You deserve your war”. The wastelands and crowded streets of an African country are traversed by a woman bearing a wooden cross on her back. She is followed by sellers, beggars and passersby, outraged voices, pity and curious glances. Parallel to her, among a herd of sheep, a lamb toddles its way from the far away mountains into the heart of the city, only to find itself dangling, skinned and headless, on a butcher’s shoulder. In the meantime, under the scorching sun, in a roofless house, a woman is persistently knitting a garment, unwinding a thread coiled over her son’s face. ‘Mother, I Am Suffocating. This is My Last Film About You’ is a symbolic social-political voyage of a society, spiralling between religion, identity and collective memory. “I saw in you what they saw, mother. You deserve your war”. The wastelands and crowded streets of an African country are traversed by a woman bearing a wooden cross on her back. She is followed by sellers, beggars and passersby, outraged voices, pity and curious glances. Parallel to her, among a herd of sheep, a lamb toddles its way from the far away mountains into the heart of the city, only to find itself dangling, skinned and headless, on a butcher’s shoulder. In the meantime, under the scorching sun, in a roofless house, a woman is persistently knitting a garment, unwinding a thread coiled over her son’s face. ‘Mother, I Am Suffocating. This is My Last Film About You’ is a symbolic social-political voyage of a society, spiralling between religion, identity and collective memory. “I saw in you what they saw, mother. You deserve your war”. The wastelands and crowded streets of an African country are traversed by a woman bearing a wooden cross on her back. She is followed by sellers, beggars and passersby, outraged voices, pity and curious glances. Parallel to her, among a herd of sheep, a lamb toddles its way from the far away mountains into the heart of the city, only to find itself dangling, skinned and headless, on a butcher’s shoulder. In the meantime, under the scorching sun, in a roofless house, a woman is persistently knitting a garment, unwinding a thread coiled over her son’s face. ‘Mother, I Am Suffocating. This is My Last Film About You’ is a symbolic social-political voyage of a society, spiralling between religion, identity and collective memory. “I saw in you what they saw, mother. You deserve your war”.