<back to home/Anthropophagite is a mixed technique short animation, originally started as an speculative animation project with Foad Farahani, during an animation course in Charsoo® in 2004.
/used techniques: hand drawing, 3d animation, photography, film, camputer manipulation and digital composite.
/17 minute, PAL/SECAM(D1), text and narration by Foad Farahani, picture and sound by Sina Seifee

  Sina Seifee, Anthropophagist, animation Sina Seifee, Anthropophagist, animation Sina Seifee, Anthropophagist, animation Sina Seifee, Anthropophagist, animation

It's filled with silvern light. In silvern clump I puddle... heavy and fevered my eyes.
Silence! my fevered eyes!
My eyes found me in dart(/heigh+tened)light and came out of darkness; Composed(/informal) and dazed(/puzzled) till they reached me. We stood still for a moment, then staidly huged each other. As though uncalled, we pressed harder and stiffer. I became mute(/silent/noiseless).
I felt the coolness of a tiny drop on my hand, if I was trying to spread it or sweep it away I dragged my fingers over it. We are filled with deep memories and refines(/trains/endures/pauses/tries).

My eyes and I embraced
released from every watcher
it/he/she was chant and I in it/him/her... and bend down on me
it/he/she smelled like a rotted old
faced to its/his/her flesh and my flesh to its/his/her bosom
circled to compensate our silences
perplexed and baffled(/dumbed)
wallowing on the ground

Constantly I was feeling the dampness of drops on my skin. The drops which seemed spilled(/poured) by a breeze(/blow). My gaze was nuzzling for rain.

It's filled with silvern light. In silvern clump I puddle... . The sparkle of lights on the ceiling
As sundown approached, shadows deepened.
some fingers were tapping though on the window
Is it the corpse of silverns or fingertips of a ghost, endlessly tapping on my window?
...fingertips attached to the window and the rest blurred(/vague); stared-at me-and me(/I) stared-at it/him/her.

The tapping continues and... wraps in. It melts and lams(/whips) in silvern, and spoils(/flees) out. lax and loose(/leave) and float(/waft). ...
To the window stands gazed to its back. Its/his/her corpus shadows in its/his/her lucid(/silken/pleasant) contents of body. Is it/he/she the gray hovering matter of my room? Or a goddess has just arrived for me? ...Is it/he/she this or that.
I sprawl on the ground and, leaning to the wall and as if unasked my eyelids go dawn, they are heavy after all ... And that/he/she who calls me to awake. And I again say am not sleep and, my eyes go dawn and, my weighted head slopes through.
I stand by its/his/her insist
and its/his/her nearby
my chin in its/his/her hands
Me and lady of gray (/my dim godess /my lady goddess of gray /my pale chatelain /my ashen dona /the cinereous queen /my ash-colored queen /my pallid empress /the shaded dame /my drab lady /my gray matter /my grayish madam /my grizzled lady /my hoar chatelain /my taupe queen)
...tight to its/his/her lank(/haggard/skimp) corpse and my face at its/his/her palms
and the breeze which blows to my ear betwixt its/his/her lips. ...I promise I say. ...I tie my hands to it/him/her, I clutch; I leave the ground, we jumble... me(/I) to it/him/her and... we burst(/spurt/sprinkle/sparge/scatter/effuse/dissipate/disintegrate).

When do we figure out something has started?
When did it begin?
And then, we are waiting for what exactly?
...How much do we try to recall the details?
Do you believe in fate?
What is your greatest goal(/dream) in life?
...What does the word exit mean to you?
Do you know about the others?
How about they themselves? What about yourself?
What is your idea about suffering?
It may sound odd; ...but what do you think of life?

Me and lady of gray (/my dim godess /my ashen lady /my shaded dame /my pallid queen /my livid lady) wraped, packed and dissolved(/solvented). Disrupted and disjointed(/disordered) in our void silvern mess. Am I dreaming?(/!) It's filled with silvern light. In... silvern... unexpectedly sparkles breaks raises on the ceiling, the shadows heighten, reflections unbridled(/reinless), the livid mist, vexatious(/bustled), puzzles and plunges
inward and out
blurts silverns and ashens. I feel the dampness and the hustle of drops on my face and hands. To a smashing cry(/bellow) that approaches me in haste I come in fray to myself. That I have cracked my sudden wager(/pledge) negligently suddenly. ...this is blood that washes my head and hands and, that from my neck out springs. I from fright just have come that I... have broken my promise... unveiled(/unfolded/unleashed) what I shuldn't have. It was a name perhaps, a place or a pose maybe
or a phrase like to love perhaps. lady of gray (/my dim godess /my ashen lady /my shaded dame /my pallid queen /my livid lady) its/his/her lucid mass hazed in exposes of the window, rearranges from the smaze its/his/her very livid shape; paled open(/span) and extend is its/his/her hair, shovering around its/his/her head, bestows the most pleasant face though most hostile now. Open its/his/her mouth it is to a gruesome cry.

© 2008 Sina Seifee, All Rights Reserved