A black and white film About an old man and his dog. There is no dialogue. Just ambient sounds -
First, of the alarm clock’s monotonous song. Followed by an abrupt cutting silence as his hand slams down on the snooze button
Then, the sound of a coffeemaker spitting and burbling. The coffee, pouring into a chipped mug. Sugar, then milk, the clink of the spoon against the ceramic as he stirs the long first sip
As the man looks curiously at something on the fridge, just out of frame. A bag of dogfood opening.
hard kibble ringing against the metal dish. The dog grumbling - impatiently waiting. Tupperware opening The hum of a microwave, and the beep. Last night’s stew poured into a bowl the rest, over the kibble.
The closed caption reads: [Enthusiastic, sloppy eating noises]
The sound of water running as the bowls are scrubbed clean.
The door closing as the two leave for their morning walk. The old man and the dog are now sitting on a park bench.
The grass, still wet from the morning dew. There is a beautiful sunrise over the nearby lake.
The camera pulls away, as music overtakes the diegetic sounds of nearby parkgoers, birds and runners, and teens playing hooky.
The camera cuts back to for a beat to the kitchen in the empty house.
The camera zooms in on a weathered and well loved piece of paper held up by a rainbow magnet on the refrigerator door.
It's a much sweeter today than yesterday indeed. Radiant meadows are on fire beneath the trees indulging blue fairies' summer bowl of sun shines abundantly overflowing lavishly enough to render in every rose of humming bees.
Pop up to flowers and bouquets maybe the song on the birds' lips: Time is today to jump in on a London summer clement scene!
Rose in a dew I thought I caught a glimpse of you.
Zooming in I thought I can get closer. Only to eye on upon a river amid myriad over looking stars.
A drop spans out to be a sea neither did it tarry. I thought I would give up that big is not for me.
But yet a scene never washed away is intact unblurred beneath the million waves of the sea. I thought the moon will give up! It can never touch but always returns over the sea can't forget a scene. So is me once that I chanced to see.
The next time I killed her it felt forced too practiced, rehearsed. And whilst the movement and the blood still flowed I wasn't able to feel the same spurt of the joy of completion and whilst the execution, was in essence still 'killing', it was kinda dull, like a boring drilling.
I'll have to try again.
The next time he killed me I was ready for it so I lent into it. And whilst it still stung I was able to ride the trauma kept my good side to the camera and whilst the transition was in essence still 'dying' it was kinda arousing, exciting.
I think the third time might be even better by some measure.
We broke the doorknob off of the door The door swung open easily We sauntered into the poorly lit store and looked around lazily We stole every bit of candy they had inside Gobbled it all up greedily on our 3 month ride I'm gonna miss you when you're gone I'm gonna miss you when you're gone
You headed out to the getaway car And hit the open road I saw something written in tall clear letters on your face but I could not break the code We had hot caramel sticking to our teeth and the only love I've ever known burning underneath I'm gonna miss you when you're gone I'm gonna miss you when you're gone
I'm gonna miss you when you're gone I'm gonna miss you when you're gone
Mothlet-like owl midges fizzling in and out of the waves that shuffle the moon's shed reflection, hovering and imitating like a wettened rorschach--
with disembodied tiny teeth for feet suckling from the scurvy gums where shadows are allowed to be kings.
Kings that observe a godess body that spans the whole sky with ******* made of crinkled ash dripping latex that falls then cuts into the grass to spread life--perfection spares no time for the impatient.
Glistening stream,mucky dewlap of the mountain carving a caricature of someone praying for rain and dreaming of a metamorphoses into ice.
With the night comes tide. Comes time. Comes death. Comes life.
If you were to sit down in one spot anywhere in the world and not move for another second of yor life
from there on in-- you would see so much beauty and pain You'd wonder what you ever did to be