Synopsis
Fran is thinking about dying, but a man in the office might want to date her.
Directed by Stefanie Abel Horowitz
Fran is thinking about dying, but a man in the office might want to date her.
Иногда я думаю о смерти, Sometimes, I Think About Dying, 有时候,我会想死, 有時候,我會想死
Based on that poster, I thought this was gonna be an animated short about a deer. I actually got pretty excited about watching an animated short about a deer, but that’s not what this is. I can understand why they’d use that image to lure me in, as opposed to some glum-looking, pasty ginger, and I guess, in the end, I’m glad they did because this really is a beautiful little film, but I still feel like I was kinda duped.
Anyone know of a good animated short about a deer?
“You wanted to spend it with me? Why?”
It’s the way she cries in that moment, the disbelief, after years of grey invisibility, at being seen and valued. It’s the way the line between loneliness and nothingness thins over time, makes the promise of escape attractive - inevitable. It’s the tremble in her chin.
Absolutely devastating performance
from Katy Wright-Mead; I will now be
following her carefully & hope that she
goes on to do (more) tremendous things.
okay but sis please tell me you did not dump a spoonful of cottage cheese on top of a microwaveable meat patty and eat that shit for dinner
"My world is in a universe. My country is in a world. My state is in a country. My city is in a state. Okay, it's not a city, it's a town... my road is in a town. My house is on a road. I lie in my bed. My self is in a bed, in a room, in a house. And sometimes, I think about dying…"
Women Film Editors #318: Stephanie Kaznocha
What a beautiful thing it is to learn how to open up to another person. There's nothing so powerful as making the choice to spend your time in another's company, the togetherness of mind and body converged and shared, telling your truth in whatever form it takes.…
Sweet and melancholic; as someone who's dealt with major depression for most of my life, I can relate on so many levels.
Bless you, Katy-Wright Mead.
“I go home to my room in my house in my town. And I like to tell myself little stories about death. I wonder if I were to die, would my skin begin to bruise? Would it become the color of dead meat? Would I become food for ants and flies? Would they crawl all over me? What would that feel like? A billion tiny massages?”
Earlier today I realised the past two days I forgot to take my citalopram. I doubt almost every interaction I have with anyone, even the ones I love most dearly; my girlfriend says she loves me, but why me? The least interesting person in the world. My mind flickers before, during, after I speak. Sometimes I think about dying.
Anyway, nice short.