Time is ticking. The cards have been laid out: her past, present and future are within a hair's breadth. Tension permeates the scene. The camera cuts to a close-up of her face, her watery eyes glistening. What is she looking for? What is she scared of? What does she believe about herself? The game has already been played; our encounter, however, has yet to commence.

In an age defined by technological excess, communication has never been more abundant — nor more suspect. We talk endlessly, yet hesitate to reveal anything real; words multiply, though meaning withers. Beneath this reluctance lies a deeper estrangement: we are no longer fluent in the language of our inner lives.

The world is dark and silent. As witnesses in its shadow our place is constantly uncertain. We shift like planets through space, connected by an invisible force, searching for our sun. What, in the end, keeps us from falling apart?