The protagonists of this story is a young man and a woman. Throughout
the story will never speak, because there is nothing to say. We do not know their names and we can not know where they live.
If their story were transposed to the cinematic images would be a sharp black and white and many close-ups of staring faces, grotesque, dazed.
all starts with a tray that moves shaky, but firmly, on which are placed particularly fatty foods and unhealthy. The tray, which proceeds along the corridor of an apartment and is supported by the hands of a woman. Since we do not see his face in his hands are suggested by its appearance: long fingers, nails cured lacquer enamel plum, a fine faith left ring finger. Tray stops at a closed door, she opens it, enters and stops in the middle of a bedroom.
Now look at the full-length from the subjective to those who, lying on the bed, rattle annoyingly as if unable to inhale enough air into the lungs.
The short dress and light the woman leaves her uncovered legs smooth and it makes sense that we are in summer.
The stillness of the scene is broken only by two factors: the heavy breathing coming from the bed to steady pace and the shoulder strap of the dress that suddenly slips on the woman's arm.
Only now, for the first time we see her face.
His hair is short with bangs, blacks, minute and delicate nose and mouth, eyes large, blacks also, it is not rigged. Smell the plate as a mother would do with the food to their child and radiant smiles.
before your eyes on black background, is an inscription in white letters: a mature man
Title disappears after a few seconds to give way to a man who walks behind the sidewalk headed for home. E 'unimaginative dress for the umpteenth day of work, the phlegmatic and dangling step. He stops at the door of a building, check out a bunch of keys from the shoulder bag and puts them in the lock.
The woman from the black bangs, chops vegetables in the kitchen while on a cutting board, started the moment when the husband opens the door. The threshold between the kitchen and hallway, the man looks at his wife without saying a word. The strap of the bag slips from her shoulder and with a vague gesture of trying to grab it before it falls.
short-lived excited. Spiamo the couple having sex in the shadows of his bedroom. There is no passion or transport. The look of the woman is vacuous and expressionless as the man above her, he moves deftly resulting in little to nothing manly.
If we were there we would be aware of stale air that is breathed into the room and the slight scent of detergent since the sheets freshly washed. It is made
day. The man, in his pajamas in front of the toilet bowl, is urinating. After pulling the water goes to the sink to look in the mirror. On the skin smooth and flawless look at the big pimple on the forehead maturatogli overnight. Touches with a finger approaching the glass. At that same moment his wife, sleepy and disheveled, goes into the bathroom, attracted by curiosity mate is positioned next to him contemplating the pimple itself. The man moves away from the sink and exits. The woman follows him with her eyes.
Since the days of most people are equal and it is terribly difficult to distinguish if it were not for a few details of clothing or other parked cars along the way, we seem to relive the scene of previous day, when man, in the evening, he returns home. You may also walk backwards because it makes more sense if you are returning home or going to work, especially since time for our character and places they have lost all meaning. Man walks
therefore, lost in thought, in fact, when he takes a hand to his forehead to touch the pimple, it does so without realizing it.
Warm is the night while the couple finds himself sadly sex, relentlessly, moron on the bed that squeaks, creaks more and more he thinks that the neighbors can hear, and then focuses on the springs to prevent them from whining too much. What else can a couple bored if not bored of sex? Not deprimetevi, while key to the bottom of many of you do not even say anything to a woman who yawns in your face. Zero
emotions on the faces of black bangs while his teammate is produced in a sterile orgasm. Fade to black
groan choked him.
Fade up of sobs that she wakes up suddenly in the middle of the night and she sits on the bed. He turns on the weak lamp shade, takes a sip of water and turns to her husband in his underwear, sleeps with his back turned toward her, breathing heavily. Suddenly, the man changes his side and I'd like to know what you are dreaming for a few seconds as she sucks his bottom lip as if he drew great pleasure. Leaving the light on the woman Relax beside the man, and so still and silent, stared closely at the pimple who became bigger and itchy.
I hope you do not watch too much body to the nth stage in which our male character, usually hanging bag, walking back toward home on the same sidewalk, going in next to the buildings themselves, under the same sky every day. If it bothers you and you think you've had too delete it from your mind and Visualize no more, for my part I will do my best not to riproporvela.
We are in the kitchen. The man is wearing overalls and shirt. Do not tell you what the shirt represents why it should be white, but unfortunately it is not. Imagine that it is. He sat at the table, waits for his wife serves a hearty, greasy chips and fried fish platter overflowing garnished with bacon fat.
Frangetta Black has prepared a light chicken salad and when the husband goes to a potato mouth smiles gently lowered his eyes immediately.
whirling noise low and constant. Two naked bodies swaying in an image almost indistinguishable confused and agitated. retreating slowly discover the couple having sex on the bed through the blades of a fan. It is very hot. The man above the woman, her forehead beaded with sweat and his eyes closed. The woman, completely expressionless, focused on the pimple of a man goes in and out from his field of vision accompanied by subdued moans about him.
Overnight bangs black opens his eyes staring. The object of his gaze is actually ripe pimple of a man, light, touching with a finger. Retracts his hand, touch him again, more determined. Without waking up the man once annoyed. The woman remained motionless, breathless, her large eyes full of desire. In
pajamas, groggy from sleep, the man enters the kitchen. On the fridge, a message: Eat everything! The man turned and discovered already served on the breakfast table: eggs, bacon, toast, a jar of Nutella from which sprouts a spoon. Black bangs must be out just as the spoon, slowly, still sinking in chocolate.
Night. The woman opens her eyes suddenly. The husband is not beside her. The corridor is lit by the lights on in the bathroom where the man in the mirror, is to squeeze the pimple. Like a white ghost woman, noiselessly crossed the threshold of the bathroom and grab the first thing that happens to you: a hairdryer placed on the machine. The man is an inch from the glass, the indexes closely with the boil. Black fringe goes a step further and hit him hard on the head.
The pimple explodes splattering the mirror of milky pus and blood.
The man falls to the ground like a wet rag.
The woman leans over him.
On the front, instead of a pimple, she appeared a black hole an inch wide in which, curious and very calm, she sticks a finger and pulls, introduces him again, slipping again, over and over again, closing eyes and sucking her lower lip as the pleasure pervades.
Then he approaches the hole trying to peek inside.
We see the hole from the eyes of women, but we can not see anything inside. The subjective
tightens.
hole swallows us. Black
We leave after a few seconds, slowly, but the pupil of the woman, to see her face clearly and stop a few feet from her, holding the tray, smiling staring. Very fast
anatomical details of certain parts of her husband lay in bed. Wrists, neck, ankles and swollen bellies, we understand that is obese, and tied his hands and feet with thick laces.
From now on we follow the scene from the dying man's subjective.
Frangetta black, the deranged smile now gone from his lips, sitting on the bed with the tray on her knees, reaches out and rips the tape from the mouth of her husband, whose breath is reduced to deep asthma prevents him from speaking, then, with great care, prepares a hearty mouthful of fried food dripping with oil.
The fork is moving ever closer towards us, out of focus.
The woman, like a mother to take, opens the lips enticing man to eat.
The fork in the man's mouth disappears snookered our view.
Black Finish.
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