“I promised you I wouldn’t returned. And I returned. I promised I would not die missing you. And I died... I used to lie from severity of the truth, and thank god I lied.” [Nizar Qabbani]

This short film (series) is an extension of an experimental narrative form I began with “Hey Mama” except in this film the narrative relies solely on the visual component since no story is being voiced over. Instead, the story is hand-written in different places, in a burning cigarette, a foot in heels, an arm, a shoulder, her back, a photography. It is the story of a love that has, despite its promise, found its end. The promise burns away in a cigarette and is rubbed and washed away from the skin. It is a promise that was carried in the body, a love so in need of itself that even its end drags on and on. As long as the departure is drawn out, the end of love never truly happens. It suffers and suffers, but never resolves itself. She waits and waits but never receives “the last letter.” Instead, an old one appears, which she reads over and over.  It is a visual struggle against the end of love, a love that for her was life itself. And if that life has ended, and she has no other sources of love in her life, what does she do? As Alice Walker writes in one of her short stories, “When she was finished running away, when she just went on, what would she put in his place?”