Kling 2.5 Turbo (pro)
St. Petersburg. The end of winter, a February thaw. The Moika embankment is deserted, shrouded in a misty drizzle, the air thick with moisture and stony cold. The camera slowly glides along the granite parapet: black water, ice floes in the murky river, raindrops drumming on the iron railings. Wet silhouettes of buildings are reflected in puddles and cracks in the asphalt, streetlights flicker as if memory itself is wavering. The sound of a tram, a distant bell, and the rustle of wind can be heard. The sky is low, like ink wash painting – heavy, hopeless, as if ready to burst onto the page.