On the morning of January 21st, 2008, a violinist living in Guerín’s neighbourhood committed suicide by jumping naked from his window. The only think that he has known about him, is that recently prepared a new translation of Werther by Goethe.
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Where does reality end and narrative begin? We're never quite if sure what Guerin shows is real or fictionalized, but that's besides the point. MEMORIES OF A MORNING deceptively begins with Hitchcockian shots of a morose violinist who will throw himself from his balcony window; interspersed are also scenes of leaves fluttering under gusts of wind and rain. Life being the sumtotal of the ordinary and the extraordinary
i know a feeling when you're mad that life goes on because someone you love has died. jose luis guerin treats this subject with his kind of tenderness, gentle shadows and warm reflections arise with the sleepy sun and every new day brings a hope that we'll be able to break the shells around us and communicate.