Then your fingers touched my silent heart and taught it how to sing
desolation enclosed by palm trees. the love-turned-desperation aura present throughout the first installment of shimizu's nanatsu no umi culminates in a very specific kind of bitterness-driven emotional hangover. floating bodies moved by resentfulness amidst a scenery heavily relied on nature. it's almost like the scarce city lights illuminating ayako's face in a shadowy winter night and the wary drops of snowflakes falling down on momoyo's small body are as essential to the film as the gloomy eyes that constantly fill the screen.