Monsterbox

Un corto precioso sobre la amistad sin importar las diferencias. Realizado por
Ludovic Gavillet, Derya Kocaurlu, Lucas Hudson y Colin Jean-Saunier en 2012 para su graduación en Bellecour Ecoles d'Art de Lyon. Cuidado hasta el último detalle.

 

Y para los curiosos, aquí dejo también el making of y el blog del autor.

 

http://ludogavillet.blogspot.ch/search/label/monsterbox

 

Dimarts 13

 

Matí gris i plujós. De cels que semblen poder tocar-se amb només allargar la mà; la boira ho envolta tot i cau una pluja fina, persistent, rítmica. Un matí en què sembla que de darrere de qualsevol arbust vagin a sorgir Catherine i Heathcliff en apassionada discussió. Un matí en què no ens sorprendria trobar a Byron i Mary Shelley "remando al viento" en dimarts 13,desafiant totes les supersticions. O a Poe de la mà del fantasma d'Annabel Lee ...

 

Annabel Lee

By Edgar Allan Poe       

 

 

It was many and many a year ago,

   In a kingdom by the sea,

That a maiden there lived whom you may know

   By the name of Annabel Lee;

And this maiden she lived with no other thought

   Than to love and be loved by me.

I was a child and she was a child,

   In this kingdom by the sea,

But we loved with a love that was more than love—

   I and my Annabel Lee—

With a love that the wingèd seraphs of Heaven

   Coveted her and me.

And this was the reason that, long ago,

   In this kingdom by the sea,

A wind blew out of a cloud, chilling

   My beautiful Annabel Lee;

So that her highborn kinsmen came

   And bore her away from me,

To shut her up in a sepulchre

   In this kingdom by the sea.

The angels, not half so happy in Heaven,

   Went envying her and me—

Yes!—that was the reason (as all men know,

   In this kingdom by the sea)

That the wind came out of the cloud by night,

   Chilling and killing my Annabel Lee.

But our love it was stronger by far than the love

   Of those who were older than we—

   Of many far wiser than we—

And neither the angels in Heaven above

   Nor the demons down under the sea

Can ever dissever my soul from the soul

   Of the beautiful Annabel Lee;

For the moon never beams, without bringing me dreams

   Of the beautiful Annabel Lee;

And the stars never rise, but I feel the bright eyes

   Of the beautiful Annabel Lee;

And so, all the night-tide, I lie down by the side

   Of my darling—my darling—my life and my bride,

   In her sepulchre there by the sea—

   In her tomb by the sounding sea.