I'm going to be revisiting this a lot.

This time.

Just now.
And last week
And a month before that.
But also this exact moment.
Typing away at 2:00am in an LA apartment.
I hear a distant train horn. No cars...

I'm hearing the little song our dryer plays when a run is finished. But it's playing on loop and sounds far away and pounding at the same time. Nothing's in the dryer. Audio hallucinations. I've been hitting the pen…

I needed this.

Aside from Apichatpong Weerasethakul, Hirokazu Kore-eda is perhaps the only director whose films can completely put me at ease. For two hours, the world slows down and I am allowed to silently communicate with the wealth of subtleties and softly spoken truths a Kore-eda picture holds. Still Walking is no different. It's serene, patient and quiet. In saying these things, I am of course tiptoeing around the most obvious descriptor of all, which is "delicate." Delicacy is…