Amrita waits for her husband on their anniversary. She's planned a small little surprise for him. She is
inflating balloons, sprinkling red rose petals, putting decoration pieces across the room. Yet, for all of
this infusion of colour, the general vibe is ominous. Instead of being accentuated through
complementing music, these gestures are cast in pin-drop silence. A silence so stark that you’re wary of an impending doom.
The day turns to evening, then to night. The balloons are deflating, the decorations are falling off, yet her husband doesn’t arrive. For a brief moment, the narrative gives us momentous, tragic information. Just when we’re on the verge of believing that as truth, we see a key turn in the door handle.
Read LessThe day turns to evening, then to night. The balloons are deflating, the decorations are falling off, yet her husband doesn’t arrive. For a brief moment, the narrative gives us momentous, tragic information. Just when we’re on the verge of believing that as truth, we see a key turn in the door handle.
