Interval

In a city that breathes differently after dark, Carlos drifts through empty streets carrying a silence he can’t shake. The absence of his boyfriend’s voice has settled into something heavier than loneliness, and on this particular night, it pushes him into motion. The urban landscape becomes a landscape of memory and longing, with each passing block offering both distraction and reflection.

Hiring a taxi, Carlos places his hope in Aurelio, the driver whose face he doesn’t yet know but whose presence becomes an unlikely anchor. The late-night streets stretch ahead of them in an atmosphere thick with unspoken feeling, and the confined space of the car turns into a confessional of sorts. Aurelio’s quiet steadiness contrasts with the turmoil brewing inside Carlos, creating a fragile but meaningful connection between two strangers bound by the road.

As the cab weaves through the city, Carlos searches not only for traces of his missing boyfriend but also for fragments of himself. Every stoplight and detour seems to echo his internal state, as the journey outward becomes inseparable from the journey within. The night unfolds like a slow, intimate exploration of doubt, identity, and the things we struggle to say to the people we love.

The film carries a reflective, almost dreamlike mood, using the simple premise of a taxi ride to open up larger questions about connection and self-discovery. With its nighttime visuals and emotionally charged silence, Interval invites viewers into a quiet, contemplative space where the city itself becomes a mirror. Carlos’s search is as much about finding another person as it is about finding the courage to face his own uncertainties.