Steven Sheehan’s review published on Letterboxd:
God's little children. Our Lord's little plaything. Dropped onto a revolving ball, floating freely through a weightless atmosphere, coerced into cohabitation, pushed from pillar to post by other peoples emotions and thoughts that connect with our own yet that still invade a precious personal space we fight tooth and nail to protect. Instinct tells us one thing, the construct of a modern existence tells us another. Which one do we follow? Is there a Golden Box of answers waiting at the end of the road we choose? Maybe it's all a practical joke, with our lives etching out a long drawn-out punch line. Is there anyone listening?
You wake up and see the sunlight piercing through the blinds, touching the skin of the wall and you realise, it's such a beautiful day. Somehow, everything makes sense for a few brief seconds, nothing else matters except the colours in the room seen through the prism of the wet molecules attached to your skull. Your feet touch the floor and suddenly it changes. Almost as if the world has shifted position in the blink of an eye, thoughts racing ahead, leaving you behind to figure out how exactly you ended up there.
Something happened years ago that hangs in my mind, haunts my soul and refuses to reveal itself. Mostly it can be ignored, parcelled up in a dark corner, best left untouched. Sometimes it unravels itself and taunts me. Then I found a spirit that aligns with my own, an accident that was meant to happen because we both wandered into an inconsequential moment pre-designed to change our lives forever. We both reflect on how lucky it all seemed to be, yet somehow, there was never a before without her.
Look at that, there's only a concrete slab where that man used to exist. Isn't everything amazing?