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Indonesian
Tantra and Tantri are inseparable. When they secretly steal eggs from the family’s sacrificial offering, Tantri always gets the whites and Tantra the yolks. One day, however, the yolk is missing, as is Tantra. Her brother gravely ill and in hospital, Tantri starts slipping into magical parallel worlds, approaching the inevitable farewell through costumes, body paint and dance. When at one point Tantri’s mother washes the paint from her face, it is as if tenderly to expel the illusion that things can remain as they are. In long dream sequences and against the background of the Balinese philosophy of sekala – the seen – and niskala – the unseen – Andini relates how one ten-year-old girl deals with parting and grief.
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