The Angel of Death by Francesca "Floating with the current", under this name shows this picture. Sudden death ends the life of a young woman. Is it time for her to leave this world or is it not yet? Why was she given such a short time? Is the payoff waiting? Too many mistakes? She has a very young child in her arms. Isn't that taken into account by the heavenly office? Are the higher powers so impatient in these matters? Give me an extension, after all. Have mercy. Easy fantasy with elements of melodrama and reflection, and fun at the same time. The ethical and philosophical aspects of this work are revealed by the director.
Is human life finite? When death comes, everything and everything ends. And yes and no. Yes, because the flesh is mortal and turns to dust in the shortest possible time. No, because the religions of the world, human thought, soar to such heights of fantasy that it is difficult to understand where the fairy tale actually ends and where the real truth is revealed. Someday, maybe we'll know for sure. In the meantime. Mythology, speculation. You opened your eyes and you were in a different reality. Turned my head back and forth and realized you were still there. You continue to exist. In a slightly different reality. Where? Somewhere here. Near the very world from which he came as from the next room. Here comes the explanation. They're talking to you. You are given new functions, given new powers. Therefore, your soul is not so spoiled in the dirt of earthly existence. Who are you now? Some messenger. What, courier service? Yeah. That's him. You're the messenger.
Easy thinking rolls up thanks to skillful directorial impromptu. The second self, waking up, begins to argue slowly about the spectacle. And he marvels at the new, and he asks questions in depth, and he himself explains what is the point, finding logical arguments. And the Messenger, meanwhile, is involved in the human dance. And footage of the plots of the comprehension of ethical norms and their disregard, us. We do things that we do not know what we do. Wake up, they tell us. Think about it, they shout in the ear. Be ashamed, and finally, they exclaim. Do we hear? Understand? Understand? Director, yes. Are we with you?
At the gates of the Holy Monastery
There was a begging beggar.
Poor man withered, a little alive
Glad, thirsty and suffering.
He only asked for a piece of bread.
And his eyes were full of torment.
And someone put a stone.
In his outstretched hand.
So I begged for your love.
With bitter tears, with longing;
So my feelings are my best.
You have been deceived forever!
And yet it's a holiday movie. Relaxed, filled. With sadness, of course
6 out of 10