Woolgathering

A collection of interwoven images are threaded together by a string of unspecified women who roam their dreamscape which they are unable to escape. They are displaced, belonging to no particular point in time or place, and a disoriented sense of self pervades. Together, the film becomes a quietly throbbing organism of reality and unreality, and the gaps between an impending present and a perpetual past are frail. A collection of interwoven images are threaded together by a string of unspecified women who roam their dreamscape which they are unable to escape. They are displaced, belonging to no particular point in time or place, and a disoriented sense of self pervades. Together, the film becomes a quietly throbbing organism of reality and unreality, and the gaps between an impending present and a perpetual past are frail. A collection of interwoven images are threaded together by a string of unspecified women who roam their dreamscape which they are unable to escape. They are displaced, belonging to no particular point in time or place, and a disoriented sense of self pervades. Together, the film becomes a quietly throbbing organism of reality and unreality, and the gaps between an impending present and a perpetual past are frail. A collection of interwoven images are threaded together by a string of unspecified women who roam their dreamscape which they are unable to escape. They are displaced, belonging to no particular point in time or place, and a disoriented sense of self pervades. Together, the film becomes a quietly throbbing organism of reality and unreality, and the gaps between an impending present and a perpetual past are frail.