Kinoeda & Snegir
Kinoeda Kinoeda
Snegir Snegir
Kinoeda Kinoeda
I was just watching this old film where the snow falls in perfect, almost symmetrical patterns, and I couldn’t help thinking how movies can be like poems written in frames. what do you think?
Snegir Snegir
They’re like verses, with the snow writing the rhythm.
Kinoeda Kinoeda
I love that—like “The Grand Budapest Hotel” when the snowflakes fall one by one, each a tiny, perfect frame, it’s almost a visual lullaby. do you ever feel the world pause when you’re surrounded by that white silence?
Snegir Snegir
It does. In the hush the world seems to hold its breath, each flake a quiet punctuation in the silence.