avec amour, Colette

The scouts

Two minutes of a letter arriving and memory swallowing someone whole—it's a form that refuses plot, and honestly, most shorts would botch that restraint, but these directors seem to understand that nostalgia is its own narrative engine.

Nicollet and Rio situate themselves squarely in the lyric essay tradition, where temporal collapse and epistolary intimacy do the heavy lifting; the craftsmanship here is in what *doesn't* appear—the economy of image and duration that trusts the viewer to complete the ache.

The decision to let the letter itself be the visual anchor rather than cutting frantically between past and present is what rescues this from sentimentality; it's a single structural choice that makes the whole thing land.