First Second tells the story of two solitary figures—one aboard a never-stopping train, the other waiting endlessly at a forgotten desert station—whose worlds collide when the impossible happens: the train stops. In the wreckage of silence, they draw from one another the first moment of change, the first second of time that truly matters.

Yes, this film is AI-generated, which we understand is still a controversial idea. And yet, I still call it a film. And I still call myself its director. Because this isn’t automation—it’s authorship. These tools didn’t make First Second for me. They helped me make it faster, stranger, deeper. They became brushes I could wield, collaborators I could debate with, lenses through which I could test how far form and feeling might stretch when freed from material constraint.

But I don’t use these tools lightly. To make a film entirely from AI is to step into a complicated space: one charged with questions about originality, labour, authenticity, and the very nature of artistic labour. I believe those questions are essential—and should be faced, not dodged. For me, transparency is part of the process. This film exists because these technologies exist. But it also exists because I cared enough to shape them into something that speaks.

At its core, First Second is about that shift—the moment before the moment. A man who’s never stopped moving. A girl who’s never had a reason to. A clock that suddenly starts ticking. That’s what this film is. That’s how it was made. Out of silence. Out of possibility. The train never really stopped. The station was never really there. But the feeling? The feeling is real.