this poem of inexorable yearning, people look out, up, away from their little spot in the universe. The snowy miniature tableaux of boxy houses, dray horses and children tugging sleds seem oddly comforting in contrast to the exposed heights of the town bridge, the church tower and the mountaintop. This quiet meditation lulls you, then sweeps you up into the heavens.

After we finished shooting “Earth of the blind” I was holding the impression of man climbing a big chimney for two years. How does the world look like from such empyrean? What holds man between earth and sky? How does the world look like from roofs of churches? These questions were the starting point.