Bread & Ink

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.