A scene from À Tout Prendre (1964) by Claude Jutra. Two winters ago, buried in some brutalist concrete campus in Montreal, I watched this film on VHS one evening for an essay due in the next morning. The film is the only memory I have of any endeavor from that lost academic year. In a deserted library, under a fluorescent pool of light, I listened with clunky plastic headphones and took militant notes. This scene was the eye of a half-hearted storm. Outside snow fluttered from a chemically pink sky.
[PS: If anyone has a copy of this film, please let me know.]