Finishing Post and a New Indiegogo! by Sarah Rosenkrantz

Happy Fall!

All is Forgiven is almost done and we are excited to share our film with you and the world. We are in the final stages of coloring and sound mixing, and have some amazing artists working on hand drawn titles. It's absolutely Loverly! Yes, Loverly!

We've just put up a new campaign through indiegogo to raise funds to send AIF to film festivals. We also have a new trailer for your enjoyment and some fun perks, including your very own custom art piece or song. Check it out!

Thank you for your continued support through this process. We made a movie!


Olive Trees by Sarah Rosenkrantz

A Walk

My eyes already touch the sunny hill.
going far ahead of the road I have begun.
So we are grasped by what we cannot grasp;
it has inner light, even from a distance-

and charges us, even if we do not reach it,
into something else, which, hardly sensing it,
we already are; a gesture waves us on
answering our own wave...
but what we feel is the wind in our faces.

-Rainer Maria Rilke
(Translated by Robert Bly)

A Girl by Sarah Rosenkrantz

Artist- Jose Royo

Artist- Jose Royo

The tree has entered my hands, 
The sap has ascended my arms, 
The tree has grown in my breast- 
The branches grow out of me, like arms. 

Tree you are, 
Moss you are, 
You are violets with wind above them. 
A child - so high - you are, 
And all this is folly to the world.

-Ezra Pound

Daffodils by Sarah Rosenkrantz


I wandered lonely as a cloud
That floats on high o'er vales and hills,
When all at once I saw a crowd,
A host, of golden daffodils;
Beside the lake, beneath the trees,
Fluttering and dancing in the breeze.

Continuous as the stars that shine
And twinkle on the milky way,
They stretched in never-ending line
Along the margin of a bay:
Ten thousand saw I at a glance,
Tossing their heads in sprightly dance.

The waves beside them danced; but they
Out-did the sparkling waves in glee:
A poet could not but be gay,
In such a jocund company:
I gazed--and gazed--but little thought
What wealth the show to me had brought:

For oft, when on my couch I lie
In vacant or in pensive mood,
They flash upon that inward eye
Which is the bliss of solitude;
And then my heart with pleasure fills,
And dances with the daffodils. 

-William Wordsworth