A.M.

Yoshi, a recent college drop-out, is obsessed with recording the secret music of Tokyo at night. He’s also obsessed with pink cakes, clementine peel, the disappearance of time, breasts, and the silence directed at him by his father. Riding a torrent of thoughts, he goes out with a contact microphone to feel for hidden echoes and reverberations.

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Kyoko, a girl from Hokkaido, is wandering the city in search of her adult self. Caught between introversion and a desire to be understood, she feels oddly adrift within her own body. Ever since a childhood illness affected her hearing, she has been haunted by the sound of a woman singing — a beautiful voice coming from nowhere, seemingly trapped behind glass, without air …

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A.M. is a rich meditation upon time, sound, being, and being nineteen.

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‘Sound of Tokyo. Sound of the streets at night. Sound of trains. Shoes walking, lungs breathing. The hiss of a bottle opening. Sound of ice cubes in a glass. Elevators rising, keyboards clicking, fingers tapping, pipes knocking. A man blowing his nose in G. A cat scratching a sofa. The sound of music through fifteen different walls. The sound of rice pouring into a rice cooker …’

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‘I am a thought passing through the atoms of your body. You are a thought passing through the atoms of your body. All things are thoughts, passing through bodies, in a sea of floating time.’