Gabriel M.

Inside a bathroom, a woman dissolves. Not into water—but into identity. Set in an oneiric, liminal space, this experimental short dissects the most banal of routines—eliminate, change, wash—and refracts them through the prism of identity. What do we flush away, what do we conceal with powder and polish, what residue do we scrub from the self? The film doesn't offer answers. It exists in the space between viewer and image, where meaning is slippery and selfhood runs down the drain.

In a bare house on an ordinary afternoon, a nervous woman prepares for a visitor whose calm presence hides an unspoken demand. Through whispered bargains, rigged games and desperate tricks, their encounter unravels into a quiet duel of chance and control. A Quiet Day is a slow-burn chamber piece about fear, power, and the fragile hope that one more gamble might change everything.