The Storm (2018)

There is a room, in the middle there is fire. People sit at tables around the fire. Some talk, some are silent and stare at their half-full glass. The fire crackles. An orange white cat emerges. There are bottles, oil lamps and tinder boxes along the windows. The diffuse light from outside painted silhouettes in the window frames.

A man stands up and puts a block of wood on the fire. The people speak but through all the different languages it becomes an uncoordinated song with the crackling as a guideline. A symphony about collective memories from the past. A yawn, a joke. It's the storm. The storm brings movement in everything here. Even the lights flash and sometimes dim.