Secrecy

"What's the colour of the insides?" asks the child. It's a question unanswered. "What happened to the chicken?" It's a question unanswered. Why are there so many children in this house? Are these their grandmothers? Are these anyone's grandmothers? These are questions left unanswered. These are, perhaps, secrets.

South America - washed out poverty, bleached poetry. Karla Gómez writes, this is ostensibly "inspired by a true story". There is the hum of an air conditioner, violins in Falco Korn's score. There's a slowness, a stillness. Very little happens but it does so in a way that feels inevitable, astonishing. Looking through encyclopedias, a game of marbles, a trip to the shop for some salt, we are watching because it is in front of us.

Secrets fall from it. Small ones, like the fate of some change, large ones, like how these people came to be in this place, driving ones, like "what's the colour of the insides?".