Ella Kemp’s review published on Letterboxd:
It’s been a few hours since I watched it. It’s been a few years since that was my life too.
At first, it feels a bit trivial and meek. Do people still talk like that? They’re only 15, they’ll get over it. They’ll travel, they’ll forget and they’ll kiss other people. And they do.
But then something grows. The years go by and when you look up, then down at the page and back up to make sure your earrings are on properly, you’ve grown up. Someone else is checking your smile and you don’t want to be touched in the same way.
For a while it feels like maybe this is the story that was meant to be told. Life just carries on and leaves behind things that don’t need to be said or shown again. But do you feel that? Can you taste the knot in your throat? Has that heavy weight in your chest always been there? The first love lives on, even if it doesn’t survive.
The river splashes on their ankles as tears stain her face. In the end it carries the little token no one ever needed to worship, but it still pierced the sturdy armour you thought no one could see beneath.
The film feels like a mirage of moments. They’re incomplete and sometimes inconsequential, but you wouldn’t be thinking, feeling, writing if they didn’t still matter. I’m now 22. Camille is a year older than me. I wonder what she’s thinking about now.