“That’s the best kind of film,” Ula said.
But when Tomas looked through the viewfinder, the image was wrong. Raimis wasn’t just standing there. He was flickering. Like an old TV losing signal. And behind him, in the frame, a shape was forming—a tall man in a black hat, no face, just a hollow where his features should be. Tomo Sojerio Nuotykiai Filmas
Ula stepped in front of the projector beam. “Then we’ll give you a new middle.” “That’s the best kind of film,” Ula said
“Action!” Tomas shouted.
The shape spoke. Not out loud—inside their heads. “Finally. A new story to inhabit.” “That’s the best kind of film