the essence of a neverending summer. capsule of a time where you felt untouchable, existing in a space between where life felt limitless and it seemed impossible anything bad could ever happen.

no one teaches us how to pick up the pieces, so even if something did happen, we'd unable to let go. giving form to ghosts, haunting urban spaces, and chasing what should've been... a summer that never ends.

Idealizing the past, yearning for what could've been if things went how we wish they did, will keep us stuck in a vicious cycle. One clouding us from how bright the future can be, preventing us from truly embracing and opening our hearts to the present. As long as we're still treading the alluring waters of fairytales in the back of our mind, it's impossible to enjoy the waves of genuine care and love awaiting to wash over us in the here now.

women taking care of one another within gilded prison walls / finding pockets of beauty and silence amidst all the darkness / solidarity meets perseverance / red lipstick acts of resistance

'lost in thought in the midday silence / death is the most certain thing in life'

an abstraction of krimi where plot becomes a vague, almost tertiary affair as people's ruminations & desire for something more than tired old roles in the same old system take precedence.