This movie is a journey through the mind of a screenwriter caught in his own paradoxical philosophy. He examines the ever illusive question of 'who am I' and 'what is I?' It's a courageous and thought provoking enterprise. There is a shipload of beautiful images, dream-inspired, Escher-like paradoxes reminiscent of the hand drawing itself, or rather, erasing itself. More and more we follow the writer in his agony over what to say and what to film, we see him phoning with his wife who left for Peru, leaving him to take care of their baby, a task he performs with less and less attention until he's so absorbed in his dilemma's that he hardly looks at the child anymore. His wife comes back and makes a scene, destroys his notes and helping him go over the last treshold until he erases him-self. Interspersed with eye-pleasing and I-destructing images, the story is mainly philosophical. It's about the veils of Maya, the world of illusion. The paradox of the movie however, is that it needs a lot of talking and thinking to prove that thinking should stop. During the more than two hours of provocative beauty and rapid philosophising the movie made me long for silence or a shorter movie. If that was the purpose of the maker, he succeeded quite well.