Johan Knattrup Jensen

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Johan wants to see what it takes to become a myth. So he follows in the footsteps of Eik Skaløe, the lead singer of Steppeulvene, who committed suicide in India in 1968. And he would like to do so all the way. Luxury-loving Mikkel is not so wild about Johan's wild life experiments, but nonetheless joins him on the trip, which takes the two Danes across a magical, wild and unpredictable India. A crazy trip, reserved for those who are out of their minds.

A portrait of the symbiosis of body and mind between mother and unborn child.

A portrait of the symbiosis of body and mind between mother and unborn child.

Johan wants to see what it takes to become a myth. So he follows in the footsteps of Eik Skaløe, the lead singer of Steppeulvene, who committed suicide in India in 1968. And he would like to do so all the way. Luxury-loving Mikkel is not so wild about Johan's wild life experiments, but nonetheless joins him on the trip, which takes the two Danes across a magical, wild and unpredictable India. A crazy trip, reserved for those who are out of their minds.

Johan wants to see what it takes to become a myth. So he follows in the footsteps of Eik Skaløe, the lead singer of Steppeulvene, who committed suicide in India in 1968. And he would like to do so all the way. Luxury-loving Mikkel is not so wild about Johan's wild life experiments, but nonetheless joins him on the trip, which takes the two Danes across a magical, wild and unpredictable India. A crazy trip, reserved for those who are out of their minds.

A beautiful country. It has mountains. It has forests. It has rivers. Only, there is no water. Edward and his wife owns a small, simple house with a garden. As everything else around here, the garden is no longer a garden, but a barren field with just a few tops of dry maize. The drought is a silent disaster, moving through the entire country – like a ghost.

A beautiful country. It has mountains. It has forests. It has rivers. Only, there is no water. Edward and his wife owns a small, simple house with a garden. As everything else around here, the garden is no longer a garden, but a barren field with just a few tops of dry maize. The drought is a silent disaster, moving through the entire country – like a ghost.

Everything seems to be fine when Michael returns from psychiatric hospital, and his girlfriend Cecilie is also confident that things will go in the right direction. But things gradually shows different. Cecilie however is fighting to keep Michael from insanity, and not disappear into his own world. Based on a true story about the famous Danish poet Michael Strunge.

Everything seems to be fine when Michael returns from psychiatric hospital, and his girlfriend Cecilie is also confident that things will go in the right direction. But things gradually shows different. Cecilie however is fighting to keep Michael from insanity, and not disappear into his own world. Based on a true story about the famous Danish poet Michael Strunge.

Jenny returns to her house in order to decide whether it should be sold. As she moves through the house, memories and traumas of the past begin manifesting themselves and deeply affect her as her past life begins materializing.

Jenny returns to her house in order to decide whether it should be sold. As she moves through the house, memories and traumas of the past begin manifesting themselves and deeply affect her as her past life begins materializing.

Olivia and Peter are a couple who occasionally have problems with their communication, especially when it is about Peter's dad. It puts the relationship at a risk.

If a memory feels as vivid as life, if you can feel every little detail, cracking in the wood, shadows in the room, movement of the hands, even the ferocious taste of the forbidden, as if you were there, as if you were 13 years old, as if it was right now - is it still a memory? Or pure imagination?

If a memory feels as vivid as life, if you can feel every little detail, cracking in the wood, shadows in the room, movement of the hands, even the ferocious taste of the forbidden, as if you were there, as if you were 13 years old, as if it was right now - is it still a memory? Or pure imagination?