Twisted darkness separates place and place in this フィルム, a 道映画 punctuated by long nights spent tied and drugged in the trunk of a 車. When the trunk ドア opens (or the レンズ cap comes off the カメラ again), you can only see the 手 of the person who has the keys and drives the 車, which is fine, because the morning 光 is a bit bright. Past the suddenly-gone 手, past the bubbles or 蜂（複） which 雲 your sight, at the bottom of your 目 frame, a father walks his son in 前面の of a 白家 sided with long continuous pieces of lumber... an Eastern 家, somewhere north or south. Where are you? Someone else's childhood? Why were you brought here? And what is blurring your 目, exactly? Stars from the 空, a multitude of ghost-like snow-blobs, ascending in 前面の of a 木 revealed by the sudden disappearance of the cameraman's 手, a 手 which has left with its anonymous owner, releasing you to an accidental loneliness in an unidentified place. Actually, you know where you are.. at James Hive-Maker's 家. You came here of your own free will. But where were you before this? Just a few seconds ago, wasn't it some other 惑星? Can't you remember the crowd rushing towards you, the greetings, concern about your condition... one of the villagers took you 家庭, fed you sticky food, and nursed you back to your current state of pre-health? Sometimes your host, in company with visitors who came to the 家 for that purpose, asked questions in an off-hand manner about the technology you used to transport yourself here.
