Password: Master2019


On this page, you will find a first edit of the research project TOUCH. At this stage, the composer and sound designer are still working on the material. This version is without any sound or color grading. 

Here, you will also find the diary entries I wrote for each scene. They helped me as a director to get closer to the character. The order of the scenes are not the same as in the final edit of the film and the text has been reduced in collaboration with writer Eva Jansen Manenschijn. These diary pieces will not be used in the final film but are available as extra documentation. 

1. Space in between

I never really smile.

Smiling is a disease.

When I smile, I do it on purpose.

When I’m hunting, I smile.

To find and feel skin.

To take it home for the night.


Right after this moment of being together

I wash myself from any possible infection.

I wash my hair,

my eyes,

my ears

From the noise that could have penetrated into my life.

2. Encounter

Your eyes are fixated on me.

I have to feel his skin.

I have to know I have a skin of my own.


If only I could wear a mask…

So you could see me, without seeing me.

3. Touch

I smell your dark hair,

I touch your soft skin.

I taste your tongue.

For whom did I open the door?

Who are you?


I’m sleepwalking in a landscape of quicksand.

Touch me, from a distance.


Will you disappear when I give you my breath?

4. Open

I’ve lost counting the days.

I count minutes now, waiting for your answers.


You smile when you see me, which makes me smile without thinking.

You break me open, let me speak, even when I’m lying.

You pet my pain carefully and share my breath, word by word to reveal secrets.

I want to ask you questions, but I don’t.

5. Delusions

I had a dream.

My body was transformed into soft clay and was formed through the touch of someone else. Hands that find their way through my body with fingers disappearing into my navel, disappearing into my ears, my anus.

Arms that find their way through my mouth, to my heart. Tongues that glue together, and slime that forms a web, a shell around my face.

I’m sleepwalking in a landscape of quicksand.

I’m sleepwalking in a landscape of quicksand.

I’m sleepwalking in a landscape of quicksand.

Wake up

6. Transforming space

This room is ill

The walls are sweating.

The space is tilting; down is the new up.

My eyes see but my hands don’t react.

My tongue is embarrassed to speak.

Where are my clothes?

Where is my diary?

Where is my camera?

I would love to hit with a hammer through the room,

on his face,

through my mind

to reconquer what was mine.

7. Transforming mind

It’s a danger to transform into the prey yourself.

The mind of the other which begins to decide on your deeds.

I speak his words,

I eat his creations.

I’m his image,

his shadow,

his marionette.


If only I could wear a mask…

So you could see me, without seeing me

I have to know I have a skin of my own.

8. Transforming body

I glue to flesh,

to skin

to limbs.

You drive my limbs.

All that I am, is marked by your name.

I put two fingers in my throat to get you out of my stomach.

9. Exorcism

You let me desire for pain

You’re a curse

You’re the infection that paralyzed my body.

I didn’t wash myself

There is no middle ground.

You, silent paralyzer, every time you come near me it can be over.

I, I resist, I have to live.

Don’t touch me. I punch your claws off my skin.

I burn all what reminds me of you to never get infected again.

There is only one way to disconnect,

by to forget.

10. Close

I’m empty

I’m safe

I’m empty

I’m safe

I’m empty

I’m safe


Others kiss each other’s cheeks,

each other’s skin,

they smile to each other’s eyes.

My hands have carved and are skimpy.

I'm saved for now

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