Wandering always leads people into a romantic situation.
The lines of her face are like the outline of charcoal, tough and concise. Hair, clothes, backpack, rubbed into the dry and gloomy sky and earth. I smell cold, presumptuous.
Isn't it better to tell the truth than to have a few cut flashbacks? people tell. Inadvertently, they speak out about themselves, so many people participate in one person's story. We saw one person after another talking to the camera, moving, like being interviewed. They were watching her and we were watching them all. It's uncomfortable. Perhaps a narrative that moves forward in time is more appropriate. She walks the path of self-imposed exile: laziness, starvation, filth, theft, sexuality, disease, and finally sinking into death. The question should be discussed in this way. Disjointed, unfamiliar and obviously noisy, we didn't hear her own voice.
Actually, there is no story here, it's all about freedom.
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