I’ve watched that fern unfurl in the corner of a studio, its fronds whispering like soft secrets, and I felt the pulse of a quiet character come alive. The jasmine, blooming only when the moon is high, carries a perfume that lingers in the air, a kind of memory that can linger on a screen. Those subtle, unseen moments of growth and scent pull me into a world where I can slip into an ethereal role that breathes like the quiet, almost imperceptible glow of a plant coming to life.