1. The Other Night. A narrow passageway. Wide open arms touching the opposing walls. Shot behind each door, particular to each one of them, there lies another world, dissolving all that does not belong to us. Outside, the city is all-surpassing. It surpasses the times, the day after, the high tower, the two airplanes. It fails only to surpass the abyss, and the memories safeguarded by the city itself.
⁃ 2. Inside Apt. 2F. M faces the mirror. She looks at the shadows of her past. The photographer watches her through the looking glass. Clic. Even an unfocussed close-up shot cannot lie. A portrait shall always be an open book.
⁃ 3. M slips throughout the night. Another girl, another guy. Embedded instants. Outside, the roaring garbage truck is deafening loud. Inside, M treads softly in tattoo covering socks. Here it is, the fish. ICHTUS. Siblings are we, here. The edging world outside. Clic. The depiction of the pairing feet is like a synthesis: something happens, and we don't know what it is. This ain't no Nouvelle Vague. This ain't no Blade Runner. This ain't no Rock'n'roll. This ain't no brain-warming designer drug. This is flesh. Breath. Desire: as a vertical crime, whirlpool which inhabits us.
⁃ 4. Inside Apt. 2F the living room walls are alive. M knocks on the door. He walks the city streets, fate and destination wrapped around his fingers: laughter, party, mouth, scream, begging, bone, quick curtain. Those flickering characters are us. Clic.
⁃ 5. New York City. M is naked. The city comes inside through the open window and covers her body up with soot. Her crude poetry stands before the camera. Existence as dilemma. God hurts.
⁃ 6. The passageway is narrow, dark and has a high celling. Shot behind each door, there lies another world, particular to each one of them, dissolving all that does not belong to us. Every man for himself. Clic.
⁃ 7. Once again, M faces the mirror. She watches the moving shadows of her days past. Silently, the camera once again approaches her. 365 days for a single night. Clic.