Hair against the afternoon sun.
Now and then, the camera looks at the hair against the sun or on the fabric. Usually black, the hair now shows a reddish brown color. Almost each single one hair is distinguishable. Some are dark in the shadows; some reflect the sunlight and turn white. Rays of light escape from the blockage of hair, coming out from the gaps in between, diverging in our little rectangular view. The hair looks soft, intimate, like a curtain.
Hair’s shadow also casts on the greyish white fabric which texture is half clear, half blurry. Sometimes, at different angles, the fabric shifts yellow. Here, the hair is delicate, is fluid.
The shot is continuous; the hair’s presence is continuous, too.
It’s warm. It’s familiar. It’s like a dream. The light is colorful.
It’s like how it’s said in music; there is a “groove” to this precise moment.
