Sofia’s review published on Letterboxd:
Isn’t life under the sun just a dream?
Voices emerge gently, softly thrumming beneath the carcass of the earth, rising and dying upon the lips of mortals. The angels walk amongst them, unseen, unheard, watching and waiting. There is so much sadness on earth, and the thoughts of the people trickle out with their misery, thinking of suicide, of love, of war. But to the immortal, all this frailty, with its violence and tragedy, is beautiful. They watch a fleeting life and they envy it.
... To be able, once in a while, to enthuse for evil. To draw all the demons of the earth from passers-by and to chase them out into the world. To be a savage...
Peace is not known here on earth, and to the angels, it is never silent. They are invaded constantly by the perpetual thrumming of voices, sadnesses and torments rising and falling, constant as the cycles of the moon. Humans make idols of savages, glorify bloodshed. And the angels can’t comprehend what frail being would make an emblem out of a killer.
My heroes are no longer the warriors and kings.. but the things of peace, one equal to the other. The drying onions equal to the tree trunk crossing the marsh. But no one has so far succeeded in singing an epic of peace. What is wrong with peace that its inspiration doesn't endure.. and that its story is hardly told?
Existence is sad and fleeting, though to us it trundles passed so slowly. And there is no meaning or reason in anything, and this becomes all the more glaring the more knowledge we gain. It is by chance that things happen— utter chance. It is a vile and pure thing, this mortality, a complete tragedy.
Look at me or don’t. Give me your hand or don’t. No. Don’t give me the hand, and look away. I think tonight is the new moon.