A misty landscape with a dark light comes back again and again to the memory of the spectator, who is unable to avoid it. A bird plummets from the sky. It dies, but its eyes are still alive, perjuring in their glassy gaze a secret fear that will conceal itself in the folds of the future.
THERE is a story about a secret, dark and distant childhood, from which echoes reverberate with lucid insistence in half-spoken words and images that will have to be forever completed. It is a shadow play. A stain on memory that Aguilera and Cociña have captured in a micro story told in verses and illustrated in miniatures along black tree-like growths.