gray ash on the fingertips and red desert sand underneath the feet. the house that never feels like home and theo feeling hopeless and alone and confused. that ash was never washed away, deeply inhaled into the mind of a little boy and left running through the veins, mixing with blood and drugs.

visually stunning and narratively confusing, the goldfinch is a beautiful mess of a movie. and i’m saying it in the most loving way possible. abrupt dialogue, non-linear…

his eyes are green as the fields that stretch miles around and slowly melt into the horizon where the limitless sky meets the earth; there is a deep-rooted sadness in those eyes that remind him of his own life. the nights are dark as the hades' world illuminated by the glow of ill-lit lamps and the fire of two young souls. the story's told in heavy silence, uneven breaths, barely recognizable whispers and touches that leave marks on the skin.…