Scene: (Soft-toned monochrome)
A darkened room with wooden walls and shadows at odd angles. Through the window, snowflakes fail to lift the misery of a bleak and depressing landscape.
An elderly fisherman sits mending a net, his pet crocodile sits at his side completing difficult Sudoku puzzles. A clock in his hand seems to whisper 'death' instead of the tradiotional 'tick' or 'tock'.
A young woman is smearing sheep excrement across her knees and shins, while singing a monotonous song about a relentless Winter lasting for another 5 years.
The wind blows under the door, ruffling the pages of the crocodile's Sudoku book and extinguishing most of the candles.
Fisherman: Have you heard the news, Esther?
Time passes.
Esther: What news?
The wind wheezes under the door for a further 45 minutes.
Crocodile: Shall I tell her, master?
The Fisherman removes all his clothes and stabs his chest with a pencil.
The last remaining candle flickers.
Fisherman: You may as well.
All 3 begin to weep solemnly.
Crocodile: Ingmar Bergman is dead.
FIN