There are some who believe that the essence of our human way to be is the uncanny itself. Yes. It’s everywhere. Hell, even the titled of your movie scratches up the uncanny. You know there is something that comes to presence in a paradox which is not a contradiction only because it actually happens. Like deja vu which happens despite the fact that “again for the first-time” is impossible. It’s like death which is always there because there is not one moment in a human life when we are not dying, and yet death is only present in absence and in an absence that cannot be brooked by experience. Therein the uncanny. We experience everything though our resourcefulness, thought our activity with the things of this world, but we never experience, which is to say, grasp the uncanny itself. The uncanny is a catastrophe which turns away from us and vanishes with every attempt gain access to its nature. But to say something like death is our proper home simply misses the point. Let me try again.

Nostalgia is that recognizable feeling that belongs to an impossible longing for home. The past is gone and cannot be remade. How could it be? Nostalgia simply longs for something that is not. But there is, I might suggest, a more original human disposition towards home: the desire to be at home everywhere. This desire is original. This desire is world making. It might even be said that we humans actually want or desire the world into existence. However, we are never at home, nor can we make it to that place of perfect security because there is no tricking death. However, like death, home is present only in its absence, an absence that experience could never breach. My point.

In every object your movie shows, in every story you tell, in each confluence of music and story trailing off into nothingness that has been brought to be, there is always a strong and proper leaning into being at home that is itself present only in its impenetrable absence.