could tell you, all things considered, that tragedy is soothing. Theres
nothing to look for beyond it. Yet, if for a moment you observe a single
fragment of the next cut, you will know that this is not a weapon, but
rather the reflection of a living wound.
Like an upside down photo album, where pictures from the past intermingle with those of the present, the plot unfolds as if the characters were all members of one large family. The importance of a table set for a feast, frenzy and oblivion, the idea of life as an unending and fleeting feast, violence always two steps away, rules and religiosity always tending towards magic, sound and silence, musicality as the only breathable air, and above all an old story, a story never told, says that in actual fact, we all derive from a flower and a knife. That is the unreasonable feeling that kills by loving and strikes by stroking.