[ 1956 ] In a quiet village where nothing much happens and everything is remembered, George has learned the art of restraint. His studio smells of turpentine and old paper. His life smells of obligation. When David arrives, it is not with confession or spectacle, but with presence - with a gaze that lingers a second too long, with conversation that feels like standing too near a flame. Some things are never named. Some things are drawn instead. And in a town that watches without seeming to, even silence can be dangerous.