A 7-minute fever dream that'll haunt your eyelids for days.
Upon liminal spheres where dreams are woven, Adrift between stars and the trees, I pass closer to the golden dawn. There’s a warmth beyond the shadow. I feel the aurum under my eyelids, And I hope the birds will sing. Oh, I hope I will hear the birds sing... Perhaps a knowledge that never comes. for David Robert Jones (8th January 1947 - January 10th 2016)
Cinematography
Every frame looks painted with moonlight and regret.
Sound
Audio design that crawls inside your skull.
Director
Scott Barley
Trivia, insights & behind the scenes
GB
