Porthole 826
Porthole 826 is the reduced vision of the eye of a photographer.
He is imprisoned on a quarantined ship which is moored on the shores of a ghost town.
We are in Hong Kong, where, almost at a standstill, life has shrunk to the dimensions of the eye of a porthole.
We are in Hong Kong, where, almost at a standstill, life has shrunk to the dimensions of the eye of a porthole.
This porthole becomes a lens, onto which ideas, apparitions and imaginary beings, come to light on passing boats.
They pass like ghosts, then fade as illusions, washed away on the seas, leaving on the glass only the wake of the pearls of the rain’s tears.
They pass like ghosts, then fade as illusions, washed away on the seas, leaving on the glass only the wake of the pearls of the rain’s tears.
Porthole 826 is the story of a man’s journey, who, passenger in the thread of his thoughts, is secretly trying to escape from his narrow glass prison.
In his mind, he mixes the shadows and the lights of the sea, the sky and the clouds, which at each second, changing their wavelength, reflect the warm colours of his hope, going as far as the dark ones of his nights of despair.
Nights during which, from the railing of dreams, he throws messages in bottles into the seas of Indian ink, just like a cry for help.
It is the story of human life, which, on borrowed time, during a pandemic, passes on a lighthouse boat going towards the horizon like a beacon of hope.
Nights during which, from the railing of dreams, he throws messages in bottles into the seas of Indian ink, just like a cry for help.
It is the story of human life, which, on borrowed time, during a pandemic, passes on a lighthouse boat going towards the horizon like a beacon of hope.
