reibureibu’s review published on Letterboxd:
For much of my childhood I've lived in some kind of home that sits next to the highway. It's a strange feeling of comfortable displacement, of feeling grounded and rooted while simultaneously untethered and impermanent. All day and night I'll see cars pass by, people driving through who I don't know and never will. Who are they? Do they see me? Is this briefest of connections significant at all? It's the constant feeling of ships passing in the night, except you're fixed on an island and observing them off in the horizon.
That horizon too, that comes with flat road and clear weather. Looking off into infinity as it disappears into nothing, with only the shifting color of the sky to change things up. But how beautiful that is, that color which marks the shifting time of day that shifts your frame of mind: whether it's the starkest blue noon declaring freedom of the soul or the wistful gradient of a grapefruit sunset conveying a burning nostalgia for the past or the blanketing indigo night expressing that home can be a comfortable thing. Living on the precipice of what is stasis and transition can feel like you're in stagnation but with every possibility in reach. Sometimes that's overwhelming, sometimes it can make you cry, but it's a freedom that comes with never settling down in one place.
Everything is in transience anyways, it's always possible to move on and remake yourself. If you're feeling stuck in a rut then just open the door and go out into the open road and find your future – I'll see you there.
