The Wolfpack

Cloistered, set apart, the world elastically pacing and raging, beyond, locked up, snickering extremes, movements in the ice, creating worlds within worlds, distance in the existensha.

Homeschooled and isolated, never leaving their apartment, never, children of an authoritative man, The Wolfpack contemplates the outside world, forging conclusions from which to engage in exploration based on cinematic truths, subjective posturing, movie watching, the knowledge revealed within their reels both fascinating and peculiar, illuminated nascent charcoal, requiring heat, in which to yearn.

Arrest awaits one of them as he ventures forth for the first time, but soon they gather together as one, to curiously seek out the new.

Sensations, vibrations, and manifestations then delight, as sundry exemplars exceptionally keel.

Sonar space oddity.

Cut-off yet assured they can withstand the pain.

Father, restless, mother, supportive.

Their father's introduction was well timed.

He doesn't show up for awhile so you're stuck wondering if he's dead or refused to take part or was left out entirely.

Strange man, frightened and brutal, struggling to maintain, withdrawn from communal exteriors.

Hard on his kids, his wife.

The Wolfpack compactly chronicles his excluded impacts, thereby elevating the voyages of his adventurous children, tracks upon which to trust, blending a fledgling thrust of punished sequestered resilience, overcome and insert infinite variability, one imaginative step at a time.

Issues of socialization, acculturation, finding a job, other things, can be found within.

Intermingled non-compartmental pinpointed reflections.

Their observations surreally yet practically confide in the sociocultural.

Loved the trip to the orchard.

True story.