Picnic At Hanging Rock (1975) dir. Peter Weir

White. Purity. Light. Everything is perfect. Everything is good. It’s almost like heaven. No one wants it to be disturbed, but maybe this isn’t really reality. It’s a beautiful vision but it can’t last forever. Hidden influences. Repression? To create perfection requires things to be hidden, to be more like a ‘concept’ than who you truly are. Silence. Silent moments. Adventure.

Golden sunlight, light shimmering. So still. Flashes of faces, a halo of light. A face frozen in time: ‘Everything begins and ends at the exactly right time and place’. White against the dark, against the green. Rumblings from the earth. Electric. Ice cold. Burning heat. Something beyond us, beyond life. Something deep, the deepest of the deep. Nothing to understand with the mind. Feelings, lost in dreams. An endless mystery, does it even matter? Going beyond normal life, exploring the realms. Disappeared forever, gone from time.

A golden face

‘What we see and what we seem are but a dream, a dream within a dream’