MUBI

Do our constructs act as looming grandeur of the panopticon, or destructions of any power of humanities presence, now just specks merging with the overcasting bridges?

Or are we those specks, that still find peace in the land above the trees? How quickly the churches and towers shift from frightful heights to lands of bliss. The camera looks up, to the urges of women and men to climb to the limits, the children aching to climb the fences. The camera looks down, and visions of the snow, we have not established any mastery of this world, just the footsteps on the endless land. But it is not depressing, to be still, silent, at the heights of our buildings, in a zone of time disappearing (the man walking along the train track bridge, his cigarette seemingly growing longer with time), of gravity lost.