Peter M Howard ::


29Apr2008 [film]

In which all that lingers is her scent

Partly inspired by Adrian Veidt's Nostalgia:

A woman leans against an old stone wall in the cold morning mist. Her head is bent, eyes closed, and with languid limbs she looks like a cat, paused in the act of stretching while asleep. Slowly she opens her eyes and raises her head, peering into the rising sun as it pierces the mist around her. She lifts her hand from her side, holding a near-empty wine glass. She finishes its last mouthful, tightens the scarf around her neck, lifts her handbag to her shoulder. She turns, slowly, toward the camera, and walks off screen.

All we are left with is her scent.


He leans against the carriage door as the train winds its way through the city. Outside is darkness, the occasional light flaring through the windows and bouncing off the breath of the people packed tightly inside. No-one looks at each other; without any real personal space the eyes are that last barrier. But he feels as if he is watched. He sees her then, on the other side of the carriage. The train stops and the doors open and she is gone. It is then he notices her absence.

All he is left with is her scent.

I was brainstorming an ad for a competition they're running for the Watchmen film, and it became the first of these two. As soon as I work out how to translate "All we are left with is her scent" to the screen, I still want to make this one.

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