Thresholds | Animated Short Film | “Ode ’Erkan” by haru скачать в хорошем качестве

Thresholds | Animated Short Film | “Ode ’Erkan” by haru

The true journey is a return, yet never to the same self. "Becoming is not a matter of replacing the self, but of continuously reconstructing it." 　— From ”Thresholds" by Deniz Altındağ An audiovisual dialogue between the animation of Emre Altındağ, the words of Deniz Altındağ, and the track "Ode 'Erkan'" from the album "Desen" (https://haruflg.bandcamp.com/album/desen) by haru. Animation: Emre Altındağ (  / emre_altindag  ) Text: Deniz Altındağ Music: haru(  / haru_flg  ) Emre's HP: https://www.emrealtindag.com haru's Linktree: https://linktr.ee/haru_flg Light and memory: https://www.lightandmemory.org Interview: https://www.lightandmemory.org/l/copy... ｰｰｰｰｰｰｰｰｰｰｰｰｰｰｰｰｰｰｰｰｰｰｰｰｰｰｰｰｰ I am deeply grateful that such a profound and contemplative message was extracted from my music. ｰｰｰｰｰｰｰｰｰｰｰｰｰｰｰｰｰｰｰｰｰｰｰｰｰｰｰｰｰ 【Thresholds — Full Text】 Thresholds: On Becoming and Nonlinear Change ​Life rarely unfolds as a straight line. Rather, it moves through cycles of departure and return, repetition and transformation. As Ursula Le Guin suggests, the true journey may indeed be a return, yet never to the same self. Each return is layered with memory, altered by experience, and shaped by what has been carried across unseen thresholds. ​From a distant vantage point, the narratives of our lives appear strikingly familiar. We encounter variations of the same stories, re-enacted through shifting forms, places, and relationships. We walk, observe, touch, love, abandon, create, and dismantle. These gestures recur, yet they do not remain unchanged. What differs is the accumulation: traces of past encounters, sedimented emotions, conceptual frameworks, and embodied knowledge. In this sense, becoming is not a matter of replacing the self, but of continuously reconstructing it. ​Thresholds mark these moments of transition. They are not merely points of movement, but zones of heightened awareness, temporal pauses in which reflection temporarily overtakes action. At thresholds, experience becomes conscious of itself. Time does not stop, but it decelerates, much like water slowing before reshaping its current. It is within these intervals that the weight of memory becomes perceptible, and the question of direction briefly surfaces. ​Importantly, we do not cross thresholds empty-handed. We bring with us the full archive of prior lives, however fragmented or unresolved. Each passage reconfigures that archive, rearranging its internal hierarchies and meanings. What once felt peripheral may become central; what once seemed defining may dissolve. Change, therefore, is not linear progression, but recursive negotiation, an ongoing dialogue between continuity and rupture. ​To exist, then, is to inhabit a state of perpetual reconstruction. Stability is revealed as a temporary arrangement, not a final condition. The self is not a fixed structure, but a process shaped through rhythms of movement and suspension, acceleration and hesitation. In this view, identity is less a destination than a dynamic field of relations, constantly recalibrated through encounters with the world and with memory. ​Perhaps it is only in these threshold moments, when motion briefly slows, that we are granted the capacity to perceive our own transformation. Not as dramatic rupture, but as subtle accumulation. A quiet, persistent becoming that carries us, again and again, back toward ourselves, altered, expanded, and never quite complete.