i went to the stake of my own accord and cried THE FLAME IS BEAUTIFUL

Synopsis

About control, its loss and those places I've been to and never got back from. - It’s 4:30. Whether it's 4:30 in the morning or in the night is impossible to determine, Quebec’s winters being harsh enough to plunge us into pitch darkness from early in the afternoon to late in the morning. It’s 4:30. A woman awakes - or has been awake for God knows how long. The wind is harshly blowing outside, the trees bending to its blows and its worrying whistles convincing her to finally rise. Slowly, her dull routine begins, although she seems bothered by the way the dead leaves in the trees rustle as she moves around her bedroom - but she doesn’t mind. She knows it’s coming. She lets it happen. And she lets it consume her.