I see myself in you.

She waited for her hus­band to open his umbrella and then took his arm. He kept clear­ing his throat in a spe­cial res­o­nant way he had when he was upset. They reached the bus stop shel­ter on the other side of the street and he closed his umbrella. A few feet away, under a sway­ing and drip­ping tree, a tiny half-dead unfledged bird was help­lessly twitch­ing in a pud­dle. Vlad­mir Nabokov, “Signs and Symbols”

I’m mak­ing a video adap­ta­tion of Nabokov’s “Signs and Sym­bols” — here are a few still images I’ve been work­ing with.