for so long i've been feeling like a ghost ("wind" he says, but the meaning remains same - do we ever touch what we pass?) and for so long i've been feeling like i've been everywhere and i've been everyone, with images i couldn't explain (you know, i told you about them). so i've been wandering (and i'll tell you again that "wandering" is the most lonely word) between them, reaching my hands through light and dark
I can't think of any other film that conveys the wonderful, paradoxical feeling of imaginative freedom and sensory restriction you get from reading a good book. Straub films actors speaking text, and the power of the material grows through each layer of remove. I've never encountered a movie in which the physical setting seems so close to an abstraction, and yet the sound of the air and the trees is real, beautiful.
Maybe old beliefs did us a favor, placing our genus in the broad class of 'creatures'. Thus loneliness was an illusion, since people were surrounded by kin plants & planets, results of demiurgic craft, sublunar minus-perfection. Love punctures this serene inclusion, its hounds bring deprivation to the bountiful; purity & depravity are the same, if love is lost or unrequited, as none can make it be less out of reach.