Thinking about Carpe Diem and the cinematography of falling leaves to falling snow.
Seasons as cyclical as generations. It's tapestries and banners. It’s photographs on the wall. A structure, a system; tradition in the bones of buildings and boys.
There's a choice to be made - Nolan's hollow, ceremonial Light of Knowledge, or Neil's scavenged, man-made God of the Cave?
They’re children living for the future through a lens of past. Fireside stories embraced by woodland caves. They chant, dance, and recite from a sacred book - the heirloom they claim from a father they chose.
The window is finally open, but time froze at Welton lake. Forever winter. Forever youth. A moment in time, a feeling, a community turned to dust.
It's all so fleeting. Carpe Diem. Teenage years, childhood, a lifetime in three months. It’s a tragedy of classical epics.
The tale is old, but this wound is fresh. Falling to your knees. Shouting at the sky, praying and wailing, and clutching at the earth.
But the snow never stops.
Spring is up to us.
