Júpiter en ascenso

What binds us to the images we create? If the act of capturing them belongs to us, to whom does the image belong: to what allows itself to be seen, to the one who records it, or to the one who first imagined it? Between thought and the world, perhaps the image belongs to no one or passes through everyone.

At a remote gas station, Clara and her son wait for his father to pick him up. The wait fills the encounter with tension and reveals a secret that Clara is hiding.

An afternoon at the museum, one soup of flowers and blueberries.