David Lynch - “Twin Peaks” (1990)
“Wait! Don’t rush so much! I know you’ve been waiting for this moment for a long time,” I said, gently placing a hand on her arm to slow her down. The air is sharp and biting, cutting through layers and seeping into our bones. The scent of pine and the distant hum of the wind added to the muffled yet harsh surroundings. “You know what snow is,” I remarked, my breath visible in the freezing air. “But I’d forgotten how it feels in winter.” “What? I don’t understand,” she asked, confused. “I’m saying that it doesn’t snow in the winter anymore.” “Why not?” “I don’t know. They say the Earth is getting warmer.” “Winter without snow is not winter,” she shrugged, dismissing it. I glanced down as we walked, surprised to remember that every snowflake is different. Each one, a tiny explosion of sound beneath my feet. With each step, I sank deeper into the snow, as though I could find a path back into the past. “Can you feel the crunch of each breaking snowflake?” I asked. She didn’t answer, her h...