I love the way the edges of the narrative bleed into one another — climbing a log leads to a table, a game of chess leads to a piece falling into a small whirlpool. It captures the odd way that memory binds itself to other memories, creating associations that reality cannot solidify. We cannot build one self from the multitude of our experiences. The mirroring around the chessboard is so subtle.
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criterion-channelwritten-by-womendirected-by-womenshortsolidarity