Planet

Maya is born on a strange planet, watched over by two moons whose presence makes her feel safe and warm. But when she turns nine, the moons vanish. Alone and afraid, she must survive among strange creatures competing for food. As Maya grows older, she embarks on a journey to find the moons, walking across the planet’s vast terrain. Unbeknownst to her, she is traversing the body of a giant, with his hair as trees, his belly as a desert, and his tears forming a storm she must confront. In old age, Maya finally understands: the moons were her guardian’s eyes, and he disappeared not from cruelty, but because he, too, stands on the body of another giant, lost in his own struggle. This cycle is endless: each giant stands upon the body of another, stretching into infinity. With this revelation, Maya finds space for forgiveness, transforming her past and reclaiming a fragment of warmth from within.

Director’s statement
As a director, I’m drawn to the quiet echoes of trauma—how they shape our inner worlds long after the moment has passed. Animation allows me to give form to these unseen emotions, where memory, longing, and silence coexist.
This film explores loneliness through two mirrored perspectives: a child left behind and an adult haunted by absence. Maya, the protagonist, spends her life searching for the safety her guardian once provided—a guardian now distant and lost in his own emotional struggle. He is not a villain but a man trapped in a consuming bond that leaves him emotionally unavailable.
To me, genealogical trauma as an endless continuum is liberating—it means we’re not bound to repeat it, but capable of ending it.
Maya finds her answer in old age, not through him, but by immersing herself in memory. She breaks the cycle, refusing to become someone else’s planet, and instead turns to the past to close the loop.