Dear.Picaresque

あらすじ

When I close my eyes, certain images linger. The house I used to live in is in the background. I follow the shapeless images and visit the places from the past. I imagine my father's house, although I haven't spoken to him for so long I don't even know where he lives now. Imagining his house is like surmising his life. There are times when passing-by images linger on. With my memory of ""now"", I'd like to bid farewell to a segment of my past. If a film is where you build up memories, I want to shine a light on the memories of countless failures.