He knocked on the back door. Three times. As he always had. Heavily worn trouser knees. Spectacles sat at the end of an elderly nose. And eighty two well-used years under his belt. ‘Can Albert come out to play?’
Did you ever possess an adventure to call your own? One that ran through your veins like blood caught fire. Causing your heart to beat far beyond its chest.
A man looked for meaning. For his very place in life. He searched high and low. He’d often hear a whisper, calling his name from the other side of what seemed like a door …
When did you last lie still as still can be, and breathe in the stars? For they sit patiently each night, waiting for you to share the honesty of your dreams.
He’s somewhere between thirty and forty. Perhaps fifty. Maybe sixty. He wants to play. Without prescription. He wants to stamp. And to stomp. And to run. And to leap from chair to chair.
Doña Chona seems tired but she isn’t frightened. The frightened you see deep in the eyes of most human beings. A frightened that hides itself well. A frightened that quietly shouts its assumption of isolation, and of loneliness.
From a palpable and utter stillness, it is as if the subject ‘is being spoken’. They are not speaking ‘to’ or ‘at’ the world in expectation of something in return, as is so often the case. Here, there is nowhere to hide. Here there is no need to hide. Here there is the letting go of control. The control that kept us from seeing one another.
The fascinating thing about riddles is that you can stare at them intently and completely miss their point. And often, a riddle will fool you into the illusion of an understanding. This is a short film about the nature and whereabouts of joy.
Might the eyes really be a window to the soul? And if so, what then? Filmed in unusual fashion for the early days of Soul Biographies. But now I have come to understand the importance of patience, stillness and unflinching human contact. The film asks if you are able to see beyond your assumptions.
Each of us stand seemingly alone, as we cry out for evidence that we belong. And as we cry out silently through the actions of our every day, we step further from our own sight. Further from the experience of our one same heartbeat. But in the flicker of a single moment …