Spoiler-filled review; please read before continuing.

"As I was moving ahead, occasionally, I saw brief glimpses of beauty."

Tatsuki Fujimoto continues his prevalence in captivating storytelling of repetitive paneling and sound character dialogue. The indication of his work paraded through the means of emotion and coiled plots of dissonant sounds. Yet through its harrowing characters, the cacophony of its narrative is amassed. It's contextualized as a letter of tenderness and remembrance. In a way, we continue living, yet we don't—there is a beginning and end, yet with our mark of humanity, we choose to remember. Even despite the harsh reality and juxtaposition of beautiful tone, we remember. A mother wishes to amalgamate these moments in a documentary of self in her last days. Entrusted with this abrupt responsibility, Yuta seeks to bring life to his Mother's passing with the help of Eri.

Reality is the context we give to it. We choose what to remember, whether that be cherishing its delight or castigating its misery. It continues to grow as we continue. Life is primed with infinite potential. Every passing second, minute, and hour of our life, these memories are cultivated and made without effort. Seizing these sentiments is no easy feat and is marvelously achieved here, illustrated through Yuta. Planning his life through time, from making films, watching them, growing old, and having a family to ultimately losing them. These events aren't known but spontaneous. Somehow, somewhere along the way, slowly forgetting the beauty of life. Until now, we have practically only seen Yuta from his preferred view. In a sense, we are the ones watching his film, his memories, much like Eri. Until the very end, where it is only Yuta and Eri, an exclusive discussion of whether he should take his own life. Realizing that life goes on until it doesn't, but until then, live. Have faith in these experiences, in these memories. How you wish to interpret this event is utterly open-ended, and I believe the beauty in that is we can ultimately choose to remember it any way we please.

The artwork is, of course, distinctive of Fujimoto's style. The awkward yet dreamscape feel is paired splendidly with its setting. The magnificent use of motion blur whenever Yuta is filming adds to the sense of immersion. Empty space and repetitive panels are apparent and consciously used to dedicate mannerisms of emotion and bring life to its already lifelike characters.

In all, Fujimoto continues to ingrain me in his pieces. With his captivating narrative of jangling yet collected feel, he embarks on a passionate journey of remembrance. Hold on to what you value, and make them eternal, giving meaning to the absolute meaningless. Of course, with a pinch of fantasy (and explosions).