Hello

    (Chuletta, 2005)
™ and ©2004 Fay Ryu

The people in Hello are little more than abstract figures, and why should they be? They’re cells in the veins of the city, trudging through a landscape grayer, grainier and more washed-out than any zombie film. Our protagonist is barely discernible from the rest of the herd, but for her hair.

Claustrophobia, paranoia, lies, oppression, intimidation, commercialization… it’s all part of the engineered discontent of the world we’re deserted in. The encoded messages of despair in the city’s architecture surface to an overpowering swell, driving the heroine out of the crowd and into secluded nature. But this, too, is dark and cluttered.

Thick brush-strokes soon reach out from the trees and press her down, but cannot prevent her from finding a guide in a bird that shares her position or perspective. When she emerges, the abrasive and depressing city has been neutralized. It now simply is. Existing as a thing unto itself, it finally meets the heroine on fair terms, and even with a much-earned wink of simplicity, when it returns her greeting. These chapters are intercalated with Heart vs. Brain battles that should speak to anyone who’s ever been a human being.

— Brendan McGinley
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