We wallow in the depths of hell to catch of gimplse of god. Blinded my darkness, and betrayed by truth, that our reality could be flawed. What is this daymare ?Another sullen play performed infront of me. You danced through the rows of graves just find a lucky headstone, but me I watched from inside this hell hole. Born ugly, soaked in sin from how our mothers made us, lust and love in primordial soup of salvation. We clawed through the umbilical tube, gasping for air the entire way. Now we find ourselves detached from this ego, fed meds and given gowns made of paper. These floors reak of bleach and bad circumstance, and yet I often miss the smell of gasoline. See, we are all just passengers here, alseep at a gas station while drivers refill the tank. Born ugly, afraid and waiting for the dispare to raise us to a ripe age.

Directed, filmed and edited by Leo Mousseau

Preist – Gershome Moore