the real horror is now

in attempts to make sense of my grief i started to make a horror film. it was going to be myself alone in my apartment and then getting lost. go in and out, around and around. the maze and monotony of endless grief. and when you wake up you are still there. alone.

i never finished it.

this was the result one night of filming by myself.

islanded

imprint in my bed

hallway of horrors

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