Nothing is more mundane than collecting water, or is it? It's a simple operation, but it takes over 45 minutes here, in what feels like real time: the man travels through the small streets with his dog in tow, pausing to pick up glass bottles at the bright entrances before continuing down to the dark river. After a lengthy row and an uphill walk, the bottles are finally filled. The dawn has arrived. The night was calm, but for the sound of bottles clinking together and the distant pounding of guns; this must be why the man encountered no one, why everything is as still as a painting, like what the boy sees out the window at the start, a village taken from a fairy tale. With all the lengthy tracking shots, it's tempting to call this real life, yet the lighting is somewhat off-kilter, saturated in greens, reds, and yellows; even the landscape is illuminated as if it were a set.
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Nothing is more mundane than collecting water, or is it? It's a simple operation, but it takes over 45 minutes here, in what feels like real time: the man travels through the small streets with his dog in tow, pausing to pick up glass bottles at the bright entrances before continuing down to the dark river. After a lengthy row and an uphill walk, the bottles are finally filled. The dawn has arrived. The night was calm, but for the sound of bottles clinking together and the distant pounding of guns; this must be why the man encountered no one, why everything is as still as a painting, like what the boy sees out the window at the start, a village taken from a fairy tale. With all the lengthy tracking shots, it's tempting to call this real life, yet the lighting is somewhat off-kilter, saturated in greens, reds, and yellows; even the landscape is illuminated as if it were a set.
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