Carl-Johan Westregård

The image pans slowly around a coastal moor, a neighborhood of silent villas and empty streets, a forest path in fading summer light. There are no witnesses to tell the stories of how it all ended. All manifestations of human activity have ceased, giving way to the crackling and bustling of nature. In this world, which at first seems only to reflect a recent emptying, black things move about, as if dying echoes of a cataclysm too terrifying to narrate.

The image pans slowly around a coastal moor, a neighborhood of silent villas and empty streets, a forest path in fading summer light. There are no witnesses to tell the stories of how it all ended. All manifestations of human activity have ceased, giving way to the crackling and bustling of nature. In this world, which at first seems only to reflect a recent emptying, black things move about, as if dying echoes of a cataclysm too terrifying to narrate.

The image pans slowly around a coastal moor, a neighborhood of silent villas and empty streets, a forest path in fading summer light. There are no witnesses to tell the stories of how it all ended. All manifestations of human activity have ceased, giving way to the crackling and bustling of nature. In this world, which at first seems only to reflect a recent emptying, black things move about, as if dying echoes of a cataclysm too terrifying to narrate.

The image pans slowly around a coastal moor, a neighborhood of silent villas and empty streets, a forest path in fading summer light. There are no witnesses to tell the stories of how it all ended. All manifestations of human activity have ceased, giving way to the crackling and bustling of nature. In this world, which at first seems only to reflect a recent emptying, black things move about, as if dying echoes of a cataclysm too terrifying to narrate.

The image pans slowly around a coastal moor, a neighborhood of silent villas and empty streets, a forest path in fading summer light. There are no witnesses to tell the stories of how it all ended. All manifestations of human activity have ceased, giving way to the crackling and bustling of nature. In this world, which at first seems only to reflect a recent emptying, black things move about, as if dying echoes of a cataclysm too terrifying to narrate.

The image pans slowly around a coastal moor, a neighborhood of silent villas and empty streets, a forest path in fading summer light. There are no witnesses to tell the stories of how it all ended. All manifestations of human activity have ceased, giving way to the crackling and bustling of nature. In this world, which at first seems only to reflect a recent emptying, black things move about, as if dying echoes of a cataclysm too terrifying to narrate.

Two men on a fishing trip realize that things are a bit out of the ordinary. A mystery is forming.

Two men on a fishing trip realize that things are a bit out of the ordinary. A mystery is forming.

Планета Земля снова погружена в хаос и беспорядки, все вокруг кишить живыми мертвецами — зомби. Главные герои фильма «Мертвый сезон» Элвис и Твитер бегут из Америки, в поисках укрытия в других местах. А отправились они на тропический остров, где встречают выжившую группу людей, которые живут по своим правилам и законам. И если Элвис и Твитер хотят сохранить свою жизнь, то им придется весьма не сладко.

A girl wanders the streets of her hometown, recalling the people, places and dreams that make a life.

A girl wanders the streets of her hometown, recalling the people, places and dreams that make a life.

A girl wanders the streets of her hometown, recalling the people, places and dreams that make a life.

A girl wanders the streets of her hometown, recalling the people, places and dreams that make a life.

A girl wanders the streets of her hometown, recalling the people, places and dreams that make a life.