From the 2009 album "Seven Circles"

Pilot episode for Origami Shadows. Score by Brokenkites

From the album "Fugue State"

from the album "Flight School"

Vaporlofts as presented by Hollow Scene. Score by Brokenkites.

If Anything has changed, you've failed to notice, because, after all, this is the vessel that you reside in and these are the battle scars to prove that you've lived. That you've loved, that you've lied, that you've bent hearts and have had yours bruised. This piece: Written, directed, & produced by james b willard. Cast: Laura Corliss. Score by Brokenkites.

Perhaps you, like many others, have found life to be little more than an endless series of repeated motions. Due to a revolutionary new technological system called the Synchronicity Drive, we can change all of that for you... Forever! Our painless and comfortable process is efficient and easy! In many cases, results can be seen almost instantaneously. Many of our clients have awakened with a new sense of urgency, and often they find themselves wondering: Where did all the time go? Are you one of these people? It doesn't have to end this way! We will help you gain back all of those feelings and experiences that you thought you'd given up or lost forever!

The pilot episode of F.A.C.E.Z. by Quitofilms & Val Clark. Music is "For Loves You've Lost" by Brokenkites. Vote for this film at: http://www.one80project.com.au/View_Video.aspx?id=410 More info at: http://quitofilms.com More info at: http://brokenkites.com

What if the greatest love of your life never existed at all?

... If Synchro knew something about what had happened to her, and had information about her medical history on file, it might implicate them in having caused her amnesia and, more recently, her disappearance. They wouldn't claim to know anything, I was sure of it, and would stick to denials of everything. That's how companies like that work, anyway, isn't it? Deny everything? Send all inquiries to the lawyers? It was happening already in everything I'd seen from the press and federal investigations of the company. I had no weight at all compared to the kind of leverage the bigger entities could muster, and I knew that they were under absolutely no obligation to assist a stranger who walked up to the front desk requesting probably classified and sensitive information.

"This is not a game," he says to me, looking up from whatever information he's reviewing on the clipboard. "A second procedure has never been attempted on a human subject. We don't know what will happen to you, but our best analysts strongly advise against it." "What's the point of having free will if you're not going to let me use it?" I ask him. "Having free will is one thing. Being protected from yourself is another," he pauses for a moment, scratching something out on the clipboard, and then continues. "I've already told you that we won't stop you from doing this." "Then I'd like to take my chances now," I reply. There is a cold feeling in my gut and I can feel my pulse pounding in my ears. No turning back.

I still had to write them, though. You have to say things, not just sometimes, all times. You have to take the thoughts out of the ether, pulling them down from the sky like clouds or satellites or stars, examining them, and then apply them to the paper. Even when nobody's listening. The papers, the ink, they're there to help you get it all out. I miss you I love you Don't go away Don't come back I hate you I can't remember what your face looks like You know how it is. Stages, relationships, friends, lovers, enemies. I wrote letters, some like lyrics, some like songs, and some like long run-on sentences that didn't make sense. Short and long letters, and folded them, sealed the envelopes, and then I placed them inside of these boxes. Would you read them if I sent them your way? Would the things that I had to say to you a year ago, two minutes ago, would those things even matter to you? People, how I miss you, you lost parts of my past. RETURN TO SENDER

"It's so loud in here sometimes. Sometimes Nothing is all that you can hear." "My heart hurts,"

He continued unwrapping the brown paper, revealing a small metal box. He discarded the wrappings onto the floor of the car and removed the top of the box by sliding it open. I leaned closer to him to get a better look inside of the box as he shook an object out into his hand. He closed his fist around the object and cleared his throat. "This object is like a sign post," he began. "It points you in a direction that might help you find your way, though the answers you're seeking won't ever come to you easily." A signpost? He was correct, though. I was absolutely, undeniably lost.

The short film "Blue Suitcase #003: Vince's Gamble" by Quito Washington. Score by Brokenkites. The video is part of a series.

Are you afraid of what you can't see? Promotional video for Ghostech - a team of paranormal investigators. Music by Brokenkites.

Mostly filmed from the car while on the road in the Pacific Northwest. Footage of Cannon Beach, Oregon (scenes from The Goonies were filmed here!) and Mt. St. Helens, Washington. Also some footage of the rain while entering Astoria, Oregon.

We are islands.

1. One that precedes and indicates, suggests, or announces someone or something to come [Middle English precursoure, from Old French precurseur, from Latin praecursor, from praecursus]