Original subtitles

An uncharted memory flees stubbornly towards an increasingly distant era.

The sensation of antiquity increases.

A multitude of countries...

... wrongfully sent to sleep

And everything looks in order from the outside

...unfailingly

And always is there this rise of vastness on the inside...

...this rise of memory, drifting.

Like rediscovering...

Flying in the dark across a place of another era.

We're there now,

We're walking through.

One night

...a growing blindness.

Is that where we must go in?

... is that where we were, without knowing?

A place where we liked to hide

...and to focus upon.

Everything becomes the horizon,

...everything merges together,

Everything is haunted.

Sleep through deletion,

...a zone of secret passages and doubles

...and of things seen without sight.

However,

...set back

...behind the curtain,

...where it is still forbidden to tread,

...the accumulation of memory continues,

...monotonous,

...ancient.

We know that this view,

...however,

...will not come from the outside.

Everything must change its perspective,

The smallest thing,

...elsewhere,

...is here as great as the greatest.

For thousands of years has this process continued its path

we are captured in this theatre of so many millennia

We are in this thousand year old process...

...unrelenting,

...one by one,

...the pieces of the game are picked up again,

...they will be re-diffused,

...different ones and the same,

...in the same way and differently.

Meanwhile, high above,

...fleeing the game,

...it seems that a heavy silence points out the north.

Nothing is certain,

...of course,

...in this muted evolution.

But if you were being watched,

...head blindly onwards across each mistaken first impression.

But if there was not only one witness,

...but rather an entire invisible crowd was watching you.

If,

...at the same time,

...somewhere,

...in some unimaginable other place,

...someone was working quietly to take your place.

If the roles were re-assigned.

Nothing is certain,

...in this evolution that the whiteness stifles,

...and multiplies,

...each possible surface,

...here

...becomes transparent

...and open to unimagined images,

...long-forgotten,

...and returned to us in silence by this white sea.

Images returned,

...and slowly brought back into focus together,

...re-aligned alongside one another,

.. in silence.

If someone, somewhere,

...was slowly attempting to take your place.

Nothing is certain,

...in this muted evolution,

...the tide takes us away.

The pieces of the game are picked up again,

...they will be re-diffused,

...different ones and the same,

...in the same way and differently.

In this oscillation,

...this margin,

...again will come the blind indication

...that the smallest thing is as great as the very greatest.

And that the viewpoint is the same everywhere.

Images returned

...and slowly brought back into focus with one another,

...and restored to order

...in silence.

With the sureness of habit

...there is distraction.

The production of memory continues,

...monotonous.

But if we were being watched,

...nothing speaks anymore.

...Rather, it is a sort of implied speech,

...cut short,

...stifled just before the key moment,

...and which cannot cross the final barrier.

Imprisoned speech,

...hovering at the surface.

To the eyes of a calm crowd,

...it is invisible.

Pain spread across landscapes you cross but can never reach.

To the eyes of a calm crowd,

...it is invisible.

Head blindly onwards

...across each mistaken first impression.

Pain spread across landscapes you cross but can never reach.

The relationship becomes less obvious,

...and yet more rapid.

Neutral elements,

...weaving and binding together with decisive intensity,

...evolving together towards an agreement both calm and disturbed.

One is now increasingly replaced by a clear and sure movement.

The line is drawn...

...behind the curtain,

...where it is still forbidden to go,

...in the suspense of the conjunction,

...of the final juxtaposition.

Nothing speaks any more.

Against all expectations,

...an irresistible tide,

...a more distant new beginning,

...the movement,

...detached from itself,

...now distributes the distances and roles...

...on the other side,

...it continues to weave its infatiguable function.

Today,

...in the past,

...beyond.

While a light,

...a blinding awakening, overwhelms and covers everything in silence,

...where we are no more than a dot, increasingly forgotten...

...and distant.