At the end of the film I’m on my back staring at the night sky…
The man who helped me is lying nearby—his mouth bloody…
We’re lost in a thick fog of tear gas—the sky disappears above us—the occupation failed…
Lost without a clear linear narrative—upset by temporal disjunction—and chagrined at the jump cuts.
“Imagine a world alive with incomprehensible objects and shimmering with an endless variety of movement and innumerable gradations of color. Imagine a world before the ‘beginning was the word.’”
— Stan Brakhage / Metaphors on Vision
thee istsfor manity reader 