Hazel Dupont

Can a mother and daughter truly say goodbye, especially when their final trip together feels destined to fail, haunted by the behaviors they can never seem to leave behind?

A sensory portrait of a father and his family, displaced into the anonymity of a hotel. In his quiet attempts to rebuild a sense of home, routine becomes a fragile act of resistance.

At her sister's funeral, a young woman is distracted by a something from the woods.

A pianist drives around a forest landscape, wandering in search of her way. A way to let go of memories. Letting go of the woman of her memories. Like a wind, they blow through her mind, mingling and enriching the music that propels her along her path. Her longing on the tip of her tongue and the end point of the journey.