Heleen : "een vroege winter"

In a remote riverside homestead, the landscape hangs between late autumn and an early winter that never fully thaws. The house itself is weather‑worn, its empty rooms echoing with the scent of damp stone and the muffled rustle of reeds beyond the water. Frost‑kissed fields and mist‑shrouded woods press close, creating a world where light is thin and every breath feels heavy with memory.

Inside, young Heleen lives with a thin, nervous mother who sings forgotten French lullabies, and a sister whose strange, self‑harmful habits hint at a fragile mind. Their father works away in silence, leaving questions that Heleen never dares to ask. As the seasons press inward, the family’s quiet rituals and the oppressive atmosphere begin to shape Heleen’s perception of home, love, and the shadows that linger in the corners of her childhood.