Kuro (2017) - full transcript

Milou

Describe something

about yourself.

My name is Romi.

I was born in California, during a period
when my mother was living in America.

To begin with, she had called me Hiromi

but her friends complained that it was too difficult
a name for Americans to pronounce.

Someone suggested taking out the 'Hi'

and shortening it to Romi,

like Romy Schneider,

a popular actress at the time and
a favourite of my mother's.



It had been a year since I arrived in Paris,
to be with Milou

I met Milou at a friend's birthday party.

...at that party, when you told me
your name, you explained

– Milou, like the name of the dog in the comic book Tin Tin,
but it's not a nickname, it's my real name.

Later you talked at length about all the Japanese
cartoons you'd seen as a child.

Do you remember that?

I couldn't believe that we'd grown up
watching the same cartoons.

You explained that you'd watched them dubbed,

but at the time had no reason to think
that they might be foreign.

I wondered if it didn't seem strange to you that,
for example, the characters sometimes

sat on the floor and ate strange-looking food.

You explained

– I just assumed it was something
that happened in cartoons.

Maybe that's why when I first arrived in Japan,



everything looked strangely familiar to me,
nostalgic even.

Milou, do you remember that?

You were an aspiring photographer,

working as an assistant to a French
photographer in Japan.

We had our first date in a Hawaiian restaurant.

You made smart jokes about the relationship between
Japan and Hawaii that I didn't quite understand.

In any case I thought maybe you were trying to impress me
and I took that as a good sign.

After a few cocktails we left the restaurant drunk.

Outside the Tokyo Tower was all lit up
...the city was sparkling and

just as things started to feel romantic you said

– It's no accident that the Tokyo Tower was
built from melted-down steel

from American tanks damaged during the Korean war.

It was built to withstand earthquakes and typhoons

but I've seen it destroyed countless
times by monsters in the movies.

Later you kissed me, and to hide
your shyness, you said

– Asians are easy to kiss because
they have flat noses.

And couldn't stop laughing at that.

Do you remember that day, Milou?

A while later I was transferred to work
in a larger care home.

My new shift hours meant that we hardly
had time to meet anymore,

so we ended up moving in together...

...but just as we were settling into our
new life, you lost your job.

One night, drinking with the photographer
you assisted, you told him

– Your photographs are like animal skins,
trophies in a hunter's lodge.

The photographer was incensed
and fired you.

It was around this time that I received a
request to work as a live-in carer.

When I heard the job offered three times my normal
salary, I wanted to take it immediately,

but seeing as we'd only just moved in together
and that you were against the idea...

I couldn't decide what to do.

The care centre had a system where they matched
carers with patients in need of home care

and as a result, I was selected for the job.

I asked for some time to think it over, but it in the end,
since you still hadn’t found a job,

I decided to try it.

If it turned out to be difficult
I could always quit...

...and that's how my job as a live-in
carer for Mr. Ono began.

Conveniently located in a quiet residential area,
Mr. Ono lived in a beige-coloured apartment.

The top floor of a twelve storey building,

there were good views of the city, both from the living
room window and the balcony in Mr.Ono's room.

My morning chores included changing
Mr. Ono's diapers,

making his bed and preparing his favourite breakfast
of rice in miso soup and some green tea.

Since using the toilet by himself would either
take too long or create a mess,

I would frequently assist him, save
for in the middle of the night.

Whenever Mr. Ono had diarrhoea, the
cleaning took considerably longer.

I kept the house clean, prepared meals,
washed laundry, bathed him

and if something was missing in the weekly delivery
of groceries, I went out to buy it.

I collected Mr. Ono's medicine from
the hospital once a month.

I'd been instructed to make Mr. Ono
walk as frequently as possible...

...an activity he hated so much that I
couldn't help but feel sorry for him.

Once, upon Mr. Ono's stubborn insistence, I went
around delivering potted cyclamen flowers

to all the local high street shops as gifts.

The shop owners all wondered who they
were receiving such gifts from

and as suspicious as they may
have been, accepted them.

However, one man, the owner of a
small stationery store said to me

– Ah. I remember.

You know, there was a time when come the
summer, the derelict plots of land

in the neighbourhood would suddenly
blossom with sunflowers.

It was like some kind of magic...

...it was really something.

It was so beautiful

...and the man who'd supposedly been planting
them would hand out flowers

and vegetables he'd grown
on the empty plots.

Maybe it's him again.

You know he was doing all that on other people's
land without permission...

...but it was astonishing how he could grow
so much on such barren-looking land.

Mr. Ono would often watch baseball on TV, but I
could never tell whether he was

actually following the game or just
looking at the screen in a daze.

The records Mr. Ono listened to were old melodramatic
Enka songs that he liked to play at half speed.

The slow music would make Romi drowsy and despite
her repeatedly switching the speed back to normal,

Mr. Ono insisted on playing
the records at half speed.

As the days repeated themselves, Romi found
her thoughts running restlessly

and began to feel claustrophobic.

Despite this, she found herself beginning
to enjoy Mr. Ono’s daily activities;

cutting his warts, watching baseball,
collecting the missing persons notices

from the back of the local newspaper.

One day, whilst on the phone to Milou, Romi
wondered why Mr. Ono had insisted

handing out cyclamen flowers
to the locals.

Milou had once bought chrysanthemums for a friend
not knowing that they were a symbol for death.

He said
– cyclamen must also have some kind of meaning

and looked it up on the Internet.

The cyclamen is a symbol of resignation and departure.

The ancient Greeks believed cyclamen to have medicinal
qualities, such as curing serpent bites...

...it was also a symbol of lust
and used as an aphrodisiac.

Some claimed cyclamen could induce miscarriages or that
it had been used as a poison to catch fish.

The only thing that came to my mind was the famous
Akira Fuse song, 'The Scent of Cyclamen'.

My father used to sing it in the
bath when he was drunk,

so that in my mind it has an
echo-like sound to it.

I never listened to the lyrics very carefully,
but it always sounded sad to me.

Some nights, when he couldn't sleep,
Mr. Ono would knock on my door.

...whenever he slept badly, Mr. Ono
would become weak...

...so much so that one night,
when he couldn't sleep,

I sat on the sofa in his room
to keep him company.

This would lull him into a slumber.

Eventually, each time Mr. Ono knocked on
my door, I routinely sat in his room,

often falling asleep on the sofa.

Mr. Ono's knocking became so frequent
that I decided it was easier

for me to sleep in his room every night.

The large plant Mr. Ono kept in his
room had a pleasant, calming scent.

Unable to find a job as a photographer,
Milou had been working as

a French language instructor...

...but he soon lost his job again and faced
with the fact that we were always apart,

as well as the problem of his rent, we decided that Milou
should come and live with us in Mr. Ono's apartment.

Romi worried as to whether Milou could cope with
the day-to-day routine of living with Mr. Ono.

When she had explained their plan, Mr.Ono
had shown no visible sign of objection.

...still, Romi decided not to inform the care centre
of their new living arrangement.

One Saturday, Milou arrived at the apartment
with his camera and suitcase.

Mr. Ono gave Milou a faint bow of his head, but
otherwise made no effort to exchange words...

...that day Mr. Ono remained in his room and Romi
and Milou were able to spend the afternoon alone.

At night they lay in bed, embracing
each other tightly.

From then on, Mr. Ono stopped
knocking on Romi's door.

...nevertheless, it soon became clear that
Mr. Ono was not sleeping at all,

and would often be up until the
early hours of the morning.

Late one night, on his way to the toilet, Milou had caught
a glimpse of Mr. Ono looking at himself in the mirror,

his arms moving jerkily, his
bent back curled into a ball

and making repetitive movements as
though practicing a dance routine.

In the morning, Milou mockingly re-enacted
Mr. Ono's movements for Romi...

...there was also the time when Romi and Milou were
interrupted when they were having sex

by the sound of Mr. Ono falling over in the corridor.
They had to carry him back to his bed.

Milou had become irritable.

From then on, Mr. Ono developed a habit of playing music
or turning the radio on in the middle of the night.

Milou would often wake up, run to Mr. Ono's room
and forcefully turn the music off.

One night, still anxious over Mr. Ono's lack of sleep,
Romi slipped out of bed and into his room

to sleep on the sofa as
she had done before...

...the following morning Milou
had seemed oblivious

and from there on, Romi slept on
Mr, Ono's sofa every night.

Milou soon caught on, and strongly gave out to her,
accusing her of taking her job too seriously.

Unable to express his discomfort, he realised
that he had been clumsy and abrasive

and as if in need of hiding somewhere,
fell into a deep sleep,

leaving Romi alone to mull over
her thoughts restlessly...

...later, Romi could hear noises in the apartment
and realised Mr. Ono was awake.

She found Mr. Ono in the living room, daydreaming
by the window and lighting a cigarette.

Romi had never seen Mr. Ono smoke.

Mr. Ono was smoking the cigarettes
I'd left on the table.

I took a cigarette, stood next to him
and opened the window.

There was a beautiful crescent moon that night
and we gazed at it together in silence.

When Romi first started the job, Mr. Ono would
often forge moments of physical contact.

He once even walked into the bathroom as
Romi was stepping out of the bath.

Romi had found all this playacting
pathetic and ignored it.

She made sure that when she slept on Mr. Ono's sofa,
she made no attempt at conversation

and would lay there silently...

...but that night, there was no hint
of his cheap antics,

and as the wind blew in from the window,
Romi buttoned up Mr. Ono's pyjamas

and began singing him the Gondola song.

Mr. Ono began to dance, making the same strange repetitive
movements that Milou had tried to mimic.

Arching his body back and forth, his face strained
as though on the verge of tears,

he bobbed his head feebly up and down,
clasping together his open palms.

He began to resemble a musician playing an instrument
in an exaggerated, emotional manner.

The singing and smoking
came to an end...

...as Romi said good night, she noticed that
Mr. Ono was smiling at her.

It had been a while since she
had seen Mr. Ono smile.

Around this time, whenever Romi suggested
they take a stroll outside,

Mr. Ono would hide in his bedroom.

He was fast becoming more impenetrable
and introverted than ever before,

turning himself into something of
an unsightly, strange presence.

One of Romi's daily chores was
to cut Mr. Ono's warts.

Mr. Ono had a number of warts on his
knees that grew back persistently.

Cutting the warts became a chore
they both enjoyed.

Romi knew Mr. Ono had been collecting the discarded
warts and keeping them in a plastic bag.

She had a feeling that it wasn’t to be discussed,
and turned a blind eye to it.

Whenever Romi threw away the warts, Mr. Ono would
fish them out of the bin with such determination that

she began handing them to him and
even gave him a glass bottle,

which she thought was better suited
for him to keep them in.

One day Milou found the bottle crammed
with warts and cried out

– What is this?

...unable to explain, Romi and Mr. Ono were silent.

As Mr. Ono tried feebly to take back the bottle,

Milou shoved him to one side and
took it downstairs to the trash.

When he returned, Milou laid his hand gently on
Romi's face and looked at her questioningly.

Once, as if to test his reaction, Romi deliberately
cut deep into Mr. Ono's knee.

As she dug the scissors into his skin,
she felt Mr. Ono's knee tense up.

Of all the things that preoccupied him, Mr. Ono's
main concern was to tend to his plant.

It was a large and healthy-looking plant, growing out of
a plastic drawer-like container in Mr. Ono's room...

...it was about the only lively
place in the apartment.

Mr. Ono worked tirelessly, taking
the utmost care of his plant...

...and as aloof as he was, would sometimes
put his ear close to the plant

as though listening to it and occasionally
even smile and make grunting noises.

There was even a time he fell
on the floor laughing.

Mr. Ono would water the plant with the balcony hose,
leaving a constant pool of muddy water on the floor.

Romi tried to demonstrate how to avoid making such a
mess, only for Mr. Ono to shut her out of the room.

When Milou suggested

– Why don’t we save ourselves the trouble
and move the plant outside?

Mr. Ono sat by the plant and
stuffed his mouth with soil.

For the most part, Mr. Ono's shopping
requests were always the same...

...but one day, he demanded for some
rolls of black plastic tape,

black fabric and a handful of DIY supplies.

Romi assumed he was fixing a water leak of
some sort and didn't think further of it.

A leak on Romi and Milou's bedroom ceiling
had formed a yellow ring.

Since it had been steadily growing larger...

one day Milou managed to find the key to the roof and
climbed up the stairs to see what was up there.

To his surprise, he finds there an array of
disregarded plants of all shapes and sizes.

It is a sizeable collection.

The plants had likely once been
arranged in steps like a choir,

but the wooden platforms that held the pots
have deteriorated and collapsed in unison.

Buckets and hoses are scattered about, and in
the larger buckets that survived the wind,

water has collected like a pond.

On the concrete floor, speckles of small green
plants grow through the cracks.

Of the dead bonsai pine trees that had
surely once been magnificent,

only the black skeletal trunks
and branches remain.

In the middle of the roof, a small greenhouse shelters
dead plants, their dry white leaves intact.

If one were to touch them, they might shatter
like delicate objects made of glass.

On the other hand, away from any constraints,
a number of plants and weeds grow freely,

and spread their greenery
across the rooftop.

Some areas are overgrown
like a small jungle.

In spite of this, most plants appear contorted, as though
unable to escape their predicament.

Here, in a forgotten place in the middle
of a residential area of the city,

time passed quietly, settling on everything
like a layer of soft cotton.

Even while walking just below, Romi and Milou had
been strangely oblivious to the roof garden.

Milou grew fond of being there and
began taking photographs again.

It was around this time that Milou
took many photographs...

...gradually over time, Romi
rarely left the apartment.

Whenever Milou expressed his concern and offered to
stay so that she might go out, Romi would decline.

Whilst Milou was out one day, an inspector from the
care centre visited for their monthly consultation.

The inspector sat in the living room and offered to
answer questions and discuss any potential problems.

Romi had planned to act responsibly and ask the inspector
for permission to have her partner live with them.

But after a while, seeing that
Milou had yet to come back,

she felt she had missed the moment
and didn't say anything.

Milou, are you listening?

Milou

In the afternoon, Milou came home with the black paint
and plastic tape that Mr. Ono had demanded.

Mr. Ono held the tape in his frail hands and immediately
began taping around the warts on his knees.

At a loss as to what was going on in Mr. Ono's mind,
Romi and Milou exchanged anxious glances.

Mr. Ono proceeded to harden the surface of the
black tape with a coating of strong glue.

When they tried to stop him, Mr. Ono resisted violently
and refused to take the tape off even in the bath.

Romi and Milou were forced to make do with washing
Mr. Ono's face and back and put him to bed...

...unable to snap out of a lingering, ominous mood,
Milou went to have a bath.

Romi stared blankly into space
and fidgeted with her hair...

...suddenly, Romi stood up and pulled a handful
of records out from the living room shelf.

She walked quietly into Mr. Ono's study, stood in
the corner and snapped his records into pieces.

It was not the first time that Romi
had done something like this.

The following day, it transpired that overnight,
in addition to the warts on his knees,

Mr. Ono had continued covering other
parts of his body in black tape.

The tape had been applied thickly, making the
surface an irregular and lumpy texture.

Confused as to why Mr. Ono would do such a thing,
Romi found herself withdrawing into her thoughts.

She tried gently probing Mr. Ono,
but there was no answer.

Worried that his skin was
rotting underneath,

Romi gathered herself and began tearing
off the tape from Mr. Ono's body.

The tape would not come off easily,
and Mr. Ono strongly resisted.

Just as she had given in, Milou dragged
Mr. Ono forcefully to the shower.

As he sprayed him with water, Milou managed to cut
into the tape and tear off a large portion.

All I could do was look on.

The draining water had turned black.

Several patches had to be left as the scissors
were unable to cut through them.

Milou collected the torn-off tape
into a plastic bag.

Mr. Ono protested and stretched
out his frail hand,

only for Milou to knock
him over to one side.

Realising Mr. Ono's skin was in a worse
condition than she had thought,

Romi explained the condition to the local
doctor and was prescribed some ointment.

Milou had been irritated by Romi's lack of
initiative to deal with the situation.

He snapped

– Why can't you just call the care centre?

He sat deflated in the kitchen, and
began drinking Mr. Ono's whiskey.

Romi soon joined him, and as they drank together, an
uneasy mix of despair and laughter came over them.

Milou began referring to Mr. Ono as 'Kuroko'.

Romi laughed hysterically.

She shortened 'Kuroko' to 'Kuro' and began calling Mr. Ono
– Kuro! Kuro!

Milou joked that in the traditional Bunraku puppet theatre,
the Kuroko stagehands dress in black

to be invisible, or to stand as a sign for
something that should not be seen,

but it was laughable to think of Kuro as invisible when
he so clearly appeared more visible by the day.

That same night,

Romi woke up to find Mr. Ono looking down at her, his
entire body covered in layers of black, save his head.

He was holding out a pack of cigarettes.

The tape was applied in a haphazard manner. One piece
was drooping from his arm and gently swinging.

Romi screamed, waking Milou
who sprang out of bed...

...Romi pushed Mr. Ono's arm away. Milou carried
Mr. Ono on his back and into his bedroom,

calling for Romi at the top of his voice.

Milou held Mr. Ono down and instructed
Romi to tear the tape off.

Romi hastily brought scissors and a cutting knife,
but found herself unable to act.

She told Milou that she couldn't do it.

Milou yelled at her, but Romi
just stared blankly.

Finally, as if to test her, he shouted

– Hurry!

Romi held the scissors tightly and began
cutting as fast as she could.

She soon realised that in addition to the black tape,
a black substance was glued firmly to the skin.

Romi felt a rush of adrenaline and began to
cut recklessly through the solid patches.

Did Mr. Ono have such strength?...

...Milou continued holding Mr. Ono down.

With all her strength, Romi frantically pulled in one go
at the black substance stuck to Mr. Ono's arm,

tearing off his deteriorating skin.

Romi screamed and as though choked by some kind of bitter
poison, widened her eyes and stepped back in fear...

She opened the palm of her hand,
dropping onto the floor

a piece of black material with a layer of
Mr. Ono's skin attached to it...

...as she left the room, Romi’s eyes
made her look possessed.

Milou was petrified. He tended to Mr. Ono's arm
and carried him once more to his bed.

In the morning, upon seeing the delivery man
deliver the groceries as usual,

Romi was gripped by a fear
she had not felt before.

Moreover, as the delivery man had seen Milou in the kitchen,
she was suddenly terrified by the fact that

she had yet to inform the care centre about Mr. Ono's condition
and that Milou had been secretly living with them...

...just then, she could not help but feel
overwhelmingly resentful towards Milou.

As the delivery man left, a pale-faced Romi demanded
that Milou move out of the apartment.

Milou apologised for the previous night and said

– Please, let's work this out together.

Romi coldly replied that Milou should leave immediately
and not return until things calmed down.

As remorseful as he was, Milou felt there
was nothing he could say to her.

The apartment was eerily quiet. Romi peered
into Mr. Ono's room, to find it empty.

There is a large black stain on Mr. Ono's bed...

...eventually, she found Mr. Ono
in the unused study.

He is covered head to toe
in thick black material.

Standing beside the table, he is looking at a collection
of Milou's photographs taken on the roof.

There are several black smears
on the photographs.

I closed the door.

Milou moved out of the apartment,
and Romi stayed behind with Kuro...

...and so began her life alone with Kuro.

Kuro was completely black.

Despite feeling nauseous, Romi
pulled herself together

and as if nothing had happened,
began preparing breakfast.

She read the newspaper out loud, unable to take in
anything or to understand who she was reading to

and mechanically cut out the
missing persons notices.

Kuro left the food untouched...

...after clearing up, despite not needing
anything in particular,

Romi went out to do the shopping,
as if to run away.

By then she had stopped taking Kuro
to the toilet altogether.

It had been a while since Romi had seen
the sky, which was blissfully clear.

As Romi finished her
shopping in a daze,

it occurred to her that Milou
might call her

and as she had left her phone at home,
hurried back to the apartment.

Back home, Kuro is lying weakly
in the dirty bed.

The plant had grown a handful
of flower bulbs.

There are no missed
calls from Milou.

Romi was disappointed but
couldn't understand why...

...she lost patience with herself,
and switched off her phone.

It made her shudder to think of
the state of Kuro's skin,

but she decided not to concern
herself with it anymore.

Even at dinner, Kuro would not eat.

Romi tries to feed him, but
Kuro is unresponsive.

It's as if Kuro no longer has a mouth,
nose, nor eyes.

It all seems stupid to her.

Romi smeared the food over Kuro's face
as if playing a childish game.

Romi and Kuro quietly spent the following
days in much the same way.

Whenever the now filthy Kuro moved around,
a putrid odour filled the air.

As the days went by Kuro grew
ever weaker and dishevelled.

Romi had decided that there was nothing she
could do to help and let Kuro be...

...or rather, Romi gradually began
confining Kuro in his room.

Since Romi's workload had become considerably less,
she occupied herself by reading,

or carefully applying herself with make-up,
even though she never went out.

One afternoon, Romi opens Kuro's door for
the first time in quite some time.

Upon seeing her, Kuro languidly
tries to get up.

Romi made no attempt to help and
stood watching by the door.

As Kuro struggled to lift
his body from the bed,

Romi had the feeling that he
was staring straight at her...

...but she closed Kuro's
door and uttered

– Please, take your time.

Romi began to rearrange the
furniture in the apartment

and moved the tall bookshelf
in front of the door,

as if it wasn’t there.

The bookshelf neatly occluded the door.

A postcard arrived from Milou.

It was a beautiful postcard
of Romy Schneider...

...Milou once told me some stories
about Romy Schneider.

He said

– Did you know that in Germany, 'Romy' is short for 'Rosemarie'?

Romy Schneider was born Rosemarie Albach in Vienna
to her actor father, Wolf Albach-Retty,

and her film-star mother, Magda Schneider.

During the Second World War, they lived in the Bavarian Alps
near Hitler's retreat in the Obersalzberg.

They had once been Hitler's guests, who claimed
that Magda was his favourite actress.

Romy Schneider later claimed there had been an
affair between Hitler and her mother.

She would later play Nazi-persecuted
roles in a number of films.

Rosemary means the dew of the sea.

Rosemary is purported to enhance memory
and is often used in commemorations.

Romy Schneider's fourteen-year-old son David died
in an accident whilst climbing a spiked fence...

...he had slipped and a spike
pierced through his body.

Shortly after, she became an alcoholic.

She was found dead in her Paris apartment after
taking a lethal dose of alcohol and sleeping pills.

Romi remembers something she
hadn't thought of in a long time.

As a child, she often wondered what she had
been like when she was still called Hiromi.

Since becoming Romi, she had never known the
Chinese characters of her original name.

She had always thought of the characters
as unused, lost objects.

Her mother used to tell her that she had forgotten her
characters somewhere on the West coast of America.

Romi tried to think of all the possible combinations
of Chinese characters her name could have been,

and all the different kinds of
lives she could have lived.

Since Romi had not answered her
phone in quite some time,

one day, it occurred to her to
listen to her messages.

One after another, as she listened to a
succession of Milou's voice messages,

she grew frightened and
switched the phone off.

Later, just as it was getting dark outside,
Milou rang the doorbell.

Romi panicked and almost choked
on her own breath...

...she frantically composed herself,
and in a calm, sweet voice, said

– Kuro's family are here visiting. Go home
and don't worry about us.

After glancing up several times at the twelfth-floor
window, Milou decided to leave.

Several days of rain ensued.

One night, whilst Romi sat
as usual by the window,

she caught sight of a beautiful
crescent moon.

Romi gathered all the books
off the bookshelf.

Moving the bookshelf to one side, she opened
Kuro's now somewhat darkened door.

Romi entered to find Kuro lying in the dark.
She drew closer and slowly held him up.

Kuro seemed visibly smaller,

and lighter, like a doll.

Romi carried Kuro to the living room window,
and as if to reminisce,

began smoking a cigarette and
watched the crescent moon.

It was drizzling outside and a gentle wind
blew in from the open window.

Kuro was motionless.

Biting her lip, Romi stubbed her cigarette out.

She brought a plastic bag and placed Kuro's head inside,
tying it down with a handkerchief around his neck.

A faint sound of breathing can be
heard from inside the bag.

Romi tried to sit Kuro up, only for
him to fall over immediately.

She tied the handkerchief to the curtain rail,
hanging Kuro upright.

With a black marker she drew on the bag;
eyes, nose and a mouth.

Kuro now resembled a
sweet little paper doll.

The TV was on with the sound switched
off and a film had started.

Romi became so engrossed in the film
that she quickly forgot about Kuro.

She woke the next morning and was taken aback to
find Kuro hanging there in the morning light.

Romi poured detergent on the now conveniently-sized
Kuro, and washed him in the sink.

Seeing as Kuro had frayed, she affectionately
began to tape around his head,

bringing him back closer to his former size and
coated him in a layer of black paint.

Now that the head was lumpy and
much larger in proportion,

Kuro had become a peculiar shape.

The next morning, as Romi went to water the plant, Kuro
took no notice of her and rolled about in a slumber.

Romi could see that new lumps had formed on
Kuro's neck and down towards his back.

Uneasy as she was, for some reason she
found it vaguely reassuring.

The plant had begun to flower and was
letting off a pleasant scent.

It had been a while since Romi
had talked to Milou.

Thinking it strange that he hadn't heard from her, Milou
had called Romi a number of times, but to no avail...

...one afternoon, he made up
his mind to pay a visit.

Milou entered the house using his copied key and
found Romi sitting by the living room window.

The living room furniture had been rearranged
in a neat and orderly fashion.

Milou's photographs decorated the walls.

A yellow lamp lit the small objects neatly
displayed on the record shelves...

...as though waking from a deep sleep, Romi
stood up in a daze, her face flushed.

Milou embraced her tightly, and rushed
towards Kuro's bedroom.

Upon opening the door, he
grimaced at the smell.

Inside, Kuro is nowhere to be seen.

He is not on the now filthy bed,
nor on the balcony.

Despite looking in all the rooms,
Milou cannot find Kuro.

Romi remained quietly
seated on the sofa.

Milou was visibly shaken. He returned
to the living room...

...and sat for a while in silence, thinking.

Romi finally drew closer, welcomed
him home and kissed him.

Milou shot Romi an interrogating look...

...Romi fiddled repetitively with her hair...

...eventually, Milou asked

– Where did Kuro go?

There was no answer. His question left
hanging as they sat in silence.

It quietly turns to night.

That night, they no longer talked of Kuro,
not even mentioning his name.

Despite his immediate concerns,
Milou tiptoed around Romi

and gently began asking about recent events.

To lighten the mood, he tried to
find ways to crack jokes.

Later, they took their time making love.

As Romi slept beside him, Milou was unable
to calm his turbulent thoughts.

Whenever he drifted into sleep, he would
wake from strange dreams.

In the morning, Romi stood by the bed
and calmly told a lie, claiming

– Yesterday, I lost Kuro in the park.

Milou rushed out of bed and said

– Let's find Kuro.

After driving in the car for quite some time, Romi and Milou
arrived at the entrance of a huge park.

Despite walking past a few small
delicately groomed gardens,

the park soon appeared like
an overgrown forest.

Kuro must be here somewhere.

They walked for an hour through meandering paths and
towards the banks of the pond in the east forest.

As they search the area, they find Kuro lying on the
left hand side, by the opening in the bushes.

Milou ran towards Kuro, wrapped him
in a blanket and held him up.

Kuro is dishevelled and worn out.

After yet again walking endlessly,
they return to the car

and roll the blanket-wrapped Kuro
onto the backseat.

From there, Romi and Milou continue driving
and head towards the coast.

Romi is in a mood for an outing
and has prepared a picnic.

Through the open windows, the now
warmer wind ruffles Romi's hair.

They smile at each other, suddenly aware of how long
it had been since they spent time like this...

...soon, despite the fully open windows, Kuro's
stench became so unbearable

that Milou moved him into the trunk.

In the afternoon, they arrive
at the seaside.

Romi and Milou roll the wrapped Kuro down onto
the sand, and Romi begins arranging the picnic.

Milou points his camera
towards the horizon.

After taking a few pictures, he sits close to Romi.
They catch the breeze and gaze out to sea.

As if having a sudden idea, Milou unwraps Kuro
and rolls him out towards the water.

They laugh as Kuro splashes
into the waves.

Milou brings a cable from the car and ties
Kuro to a washed up tree trunk.

Romi and Milou build sand castles.

They collect pale, pink-coloured seashells
and decorate the castles...

...Romi is smiling.

They lie in the sand and watch
the passing clouds.

A while later, they wake from the cold
and find the sand castles collapsed.

As the sun goes down, the sea darkens
and stars begin to appear in the sky.

Romi and Milou lift Kuro
out of the water.

Washed by the waves, Kuro is peeling and resembles
a large, tangled clump of seaweed.

Romi and Milou squeeze the water out of him,
wrap him in the blanket and drive home.

It had been a long day.

Once home, after drying Kuro thoroughly
and putting him to bed,

Romi and Milou fell fast asleep.

The next morning, Romi woke up to find
that Milou was not beside her.

She eats breakfast on her own, and
upon entering to water the plant

finds Kuro's room empty, the bed
coated in a pale black stain.

Kuro is missing.

As she wondered where they
could be at this early hour,

a sudden torrential rain
began to fall outside.

I watched the raindrops falling

and thought to somehow move the
plant out onto the balcony.

With some careful manoeuvring, I opened the
window and managed to drag it outside.

I stood by the plant in the rain, smoking
a cigarette and took in the view.

The city was covered in
a blanket of white.

The rain-soaked asphalt and trees
let off a pleasant smell.

It was almost spring.

The heavy rain beat on the plant and
the leaves seemed to come alive.

Despite a few petals having fallen, the
plant appeared refreshed in the rain.

The rain continued to fall relentlessly,
in time to alarming levels.

I went inside and looked out from behind the metal
window frames, my heart beating anxiously...

...the streaming water on the windows reminded me
of being in the car wash with my father.

In the distance, the city looks as though
it might be washed away.

People gradually disappear
from the streets.

A grey-coloured water overflows
from the river.

An alarm can be heard in the distance.

As water begins to spill onto roads,
the entire city turns grey.

A lone red fire engine sounding its siren wades down
a street as though struggling to swim.

A blue tricycle drifts across the main road.

Something like a large white
bed sheet flutters by.

A pot plant with purple flowers,

a plastic bag,

that park bench,

a backpack left behind by someone,

a cherished photograph,

street signs with arrows stripped
of their meaning,

posters,

a pair of climbing shoes no longer
in use, an anthology,

an old stove, speakers, rings, hair accessories,
T-shirts, a white shirt,

an endless flow of things all wash away.

In a crippling panic, all I could
do was to sit still.

The morning sun appeared from behind the clouds
like scene in an old folk story

I stood up and looked out to where
the city occluded the horizon.

In the distance, the water shimmers as it covers the earth's
surface, dying it in the colour of the city's dirt.

Before long, the morning sun hides itself.

Under the low sky, a white bird-shaped
alarm clock announces the time.

Shifting the line of vision westwards, a row of miniature
light bulbs can be seen flickering on and off.

They belong to a small electric music box
floating on the water;

the miniature light bulbs adorn a stage
on which a ballerina dances.

Threatened to be swallowed by the water,
she spins round and round...

...the music plays out as though climbing
against the rain and up towards the sky.

As if waking from a dream, I step away
from the window and run out

and up onto the roof.

The laundry flutters in the wind, on
the verge of being blown away.

Squinting, I can make out Kuro lying
down in the middle of the rooftop,

soaked in water, as if he had
collapsed from exhaustion.

Romi walks between the plants, and as she
gets closer, holds Kuro in her arms.

Looking around her, Romi spots
a large pail full of dirt.

She clears away the twigs on the surface,
softening the dirt inside,

and lays Kuro down on the pail.

Kuro melds into the dirt.

The rain swallows all,

fading out the sound of Romi's footsteps.

The rain beats heavily on the discarded plants.