Is there anything more mundane than gathering water? It's a simple operation, but it takes over 45 minutes in real time here: the man travels through the tiny streets with his dog in tow, stopping to pick up glass bottles at the bright doors before proceeding down to the dark river. After a long row and an extensive walk, the bottles are eventually filled. It's already morning. That must be why the father encountered no one, why everything is as calm as a painting, like what the youngster sees out the window at the start, a village torn from a fairy tale. It's tempting to call this real life, yet the lighting is somewhat off-kilter, with intense greens, reds, and yellows; even the terrain is lighted like a stage set.
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Is there anything more mundane than gathering water? It's a simple operation, but it takes over 45 minutes in real time here: the man travels through the tiny streets with his dog in tow, stopping to pick up glass bottles at the bright doors before proceeding down to the dark river. After a long row and an extensive walk, the bottles are eventually filled. It's already morning. That must be why the father encountered no one, why everything is as calm as a painting, like what the youngster sees out the window at the start, a village torn from a fairy tale. It's tempting to call this real life, yet the lighting is somewhat off-kilter, with intense greens, reds, and yellows; even the terrain is lighted like a stage set.
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