"Enough tradition already."
Recalls the spacial dread of P.T. and Silent Hill 4: the Room in which the familiarization instilled with ones domestic surrounding only serves to further the atmospheric horror of such a space. The walls of an apartment, which act as shackles to many to the outside world rupture our view of the outside, suddenly seeming unreachable. Our hands extend - open palm, closed palm - in an attempt to grasp the innards of the world outside of our shackles. Spectres…
"Love and tenderness. It's intellect and understanding. Something infinite - severe yet delicate like the feeling in your hand, which tells you you have nerve cells.
It's the most profound and beautiful thing there is. It's my only reason for living. The hope of my life. The only thing worth dying for."
- Koumiko Muraoka
Perhaps obnoxiously touristy at times, Marker still applies a lens onto a prospering post-WWll Japan then zooms that lens onto a single woman and her…