QUIET STORMS

"This will be a horror story. It will be a crime story. But it won't look like it. It won't seem like it because I'm the one telling it. I'm the one talking and that's why it won't seem like it. But deep down it's a story of a horrific crime.“ - Roberto Bolaño.

Quiet Storms is a stubborn attempt to make the invisible present. It is a clumsy nostalgic dance. An impossible song. A poem like an open wound. The anticipation of a forming storm. A process of erosion.

Nahuel explores the sediments of his hometown, memories of a distant landscape. Oil, conquest, violence, desertion.
Like a sensitive revolt, his performance whispers visions against the suffocating realism that dominates the gaze on the painful. Like an intimate ceremony to summon what has been buried underneath, what was left behind but will not go away. It tells a story about the cadavers of capitalism.

How to keep listening to the sounds of the unbearable? How to prepare and surrender to the coming storm?