Baram Writer (2006)
[note: this originally appeared in Dark Sky Magazine] BARAM WRITER EXT. AN URBAN WOODLAND. WINTER. LATE AFTERNOON. Wind blows through trees, rustles dead leaves, makes branches sway in a creaking, slow dervish. VO [male]: The wind has its own tone, its own feeling. It’s like … coldness, thinness. It’s like hunger. The wind has a body. The wind is someone. JUMPCUT EXT. A HIKING TRAIL IN THE URBAN WOODLAND. A MOMENT LATER. A married couple walks along the trail. We see the wife, walking ahead. VO : You’re someone. I’m someone. Your body: petite, a source of warmth. A body to whom love is directed. My body? Wind. That is, has been wind. Still feels like wind, but sometimes feels warmth. I think this is the final state of love. JUMPCUT EXT. THE HIKING TRAIL. A MOMENT LATER. A view of nearby apartment buildings. Several of the apartments, while still in somebody’s possession, lie empty. The buildings look spectral and aristocratic: the second homes of the well-to-do. The ...