The opening credits suggest a work of serious intrigue: a view of Earth from outer space zeroes in on the east coast ot the US and zooms into what's revealed to be a large building complex nestled in woodland what we'll soon learn is CIA headquarters in Langley, Virginia to a soundtrack of propulsive, thundering percussion. From here, it will
"Each of Hanneke's illustrations features the detachment of selves, allowing her figures to float through a metaphysical world that only the cartoon logic can allow; a ballooned, ghost-like ego floating above someone at a computer; or heads lined up in the form of a train's body, their thought bubbles becoming smoke stacks."
People are not very good at remembering things the way they really happened. If an experience is an article of clothing, then memory is the garment after it's been washed, not according to the instructions, over and over again: the colours fade, the size shrinks, the original, nostalgic scent has long since become the artificial orchid smell of fabric softener.