A woman walks through bright lights.
The same woman limps down a road.
It is Marya Timofeevna.
A horse-drawn carriage thunders down another dusty road. Marya stops and listens.
INT. Night. A drawing room lit by oil lamps. There is an oval mirror on the wall, and under it a table. The walls are smudged. In the room are a sofa and a couple of chairs. Marya sits in one of the chairs, soaking her feet in an old tub. She drops rose petals into the water. She massages her feet. Then she hears a sound. She looks up, stops. Nothing happens. She goes back to massaging her feet.
Bedroom. A single oil lamp on a table next to a bed. Marya is reading a book. Another woman lies in bed with Marya. She is also reading. One of Marya’s feet is propped up. It is huge.
The camera focuses in on the windowpane, where it is dark.
The next shot is identical to the first, but the other woman isn’t there. The camera stays and watches Marya.
Marya blows out the oil lamp. Darkness.
EXT. Morning. Short and long shots of a swamp. A closeup of a frog. It sits on the bank, then jumps into the water. The camera stays, looking at the swamp.
VOICEOVER: I walked into the day.
The woman who was with Marya, and then wasn’t, is sitting in the grass looking out at the horizon.