DESCRIPTION

A forest near the coast. A pension…or is it a private villa. A guest…or is he a psychiatrist? Is he here to relax…or to treat the sick?

A villa. A psychiatrist…or a patient with an appointment from a colleague for an examination? Or is it his wife who’s brought him here, hoping to prevent a suicide? Or a murder? A clear conspiracy. And each with his role. Consciousness arranges endless combinations of possibilities of time, space, people, and events. It is imperative to get to the bottom of what is happening. Or of what seems to be happening.

Someone is in the yard. In the forest. At the villa, or is it a pension? Something is happening. In reality or is it a hallucination? In order to know, one must start again at the beginning, or perhaps at the end? Yet starting again provides few answers. Utter complication and confusion. Hopelessly lost among the possibilities for interpretation. Perhaps it’s best to just move on?

A villa. A family. A mother and daughter. A son. Or is he a son-in-law? Or a priest? He’s there often enough. She may not like it, but she keeps quiet about it. It’s difficult to speak with that scar on her face. Such a regrettable case, what happened to the maid. But she won’t talk about it. Not a word. Never. With that scar on her face. The face of a daughter, perhaps

A guest. Or a psychiatrist? He’s found a pension for his vacation. Or was he called out for a consult? He resists at first, but he did recommend this, perhaps even insisted. He was forced to accept. It’s pointless. The patient is dead. Or is it his son? The pension, no matter how it might look on the outside, is just perfect for a nice rest.

The coast, on the outskirts. A villa. Or is it a pension? A large, two storey house with an attic, some broken windows, like on a set, props in a play. It looks like no one is home and nothing is happening.

Based on a novel by the Ukrainian author Dmytro B’elyansky.