The snow in Helsinki always comes quietly, as if the world has deliberately pressed the mute button. The snow wrapped the sound, and even time seemed to be crushed into pieces and stuck in a piece of white. Seven years have passed, and the snow is still falling. Some things are settling and covered in the white, but they have never really disappeared.
Yu Hang remembered the coldness that night, the smell of rust and sugar, and a voice speaking to her in her accent in the kitchen. The voice was gentle, innocent, and like a trap.
She stood up from the cold pool and raised her hand to press the doorknob.
Behind the door is a world covered in snow, an echo that she cannot escape.
Concept: Thoughts in the digital age