A bucolic image of a snowy valley can offer different views and very different interpretations. The uniform white beauty of a nature surrendered to hibernation can also mean isolation, inactivity, lethargy, boredom, or even fear of feeling separated from everything, at the mercy of inclement weather that seems to alter the environment, as if taking hold of it forever.
And yet, I insist, there is a lot of charm in a lonely cabin from which a fireplace smokes. Symbols of civilization, warmth, humanity and familiarity.
All these sensations and images nourish this story, endow it with that contradictory setting, and take advantage of this dual game to open us up to a truly disconcerting story.
It is the middle of Christmas and we return to the image of the cabin ... From it a figure emerges, it is a man ... His accelerated breathing manifests itself in a dense vapor that comes out in streams with each expiration. There is hardly any natural light, the sun has already given up its attempt to warm the ground rather than reverberate uselessly on the snow.
The man seems governed by an anger that we can only associate with madness, hopelessness or enormous frustration.
It is then when the bucolic image is decaying and everything takes on a greater dark blue tone.
We would like to know what drives this man into such frenzied activity. The ax in his hands drives us back. The trees are falling as the power of the blows of the edge of the ax makes them bend and finally lie down.
Finding out what is happening, discovering the reasons for that rage attack is the foundation of this story.
It is Christmas, everything can happen ... and in the same way that a great snowfall can awaken contradictory sensations according to the observer, Christmas also causes conflicting sensations according to the soul of each one ...
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