Flight's at dawn and everything I own is zipped by the door, so this is my last night in my own bed for two whole weeks. I don't plan to spend it sleeping. Come say goodnight properly?
Flight's at dawn and everything I own is zipped by the door, so this is my last night in my own bed for two whole weeks. I don't plan to spend it sleeping. Come say goodnight properly?
Three days out and the ceremony details just dropped — black carpet, concert hall, Ulya right after — so tonight I'm doing a full dress run in the hallway with the suitcase finally zipped. The coat's the only thing between me and opening night. Tell me it stays on until Tallinn?
Put on a film to wind down before the trip and it backfired completely — paused it halfway through. Tell me you'd press play for me.
Five days out and the suitcase still refuses to close — the Baltic focus section alone wants three more films, and apparently three more outfits to watch them in. Tell me what stays home?
Ulya. That's the film that gets to open the whole thirtieth edition, and now every dress I own is suddenly auditioning for the flight. This one lost the zipper fight already — should it make the suitcase or not?
Opening film is officially locked in and the red carpet is one week away — so I'm doing a final rehearsal that keeps losing layers. Tell me what I should wear over this on opening night?
The jury news just dropped and I nearly slid off my chair — the competition jury lineup for Tallinn is out and my picks just got a lot more interesting. The robe lost its belt somewhere around the second announcement. Tell me which film you'd bet on for the Grand Prix?
The full Tallinn programme finally dropped and I've been flat on the bed with the laptop ever since, marking every film I refuse to miss. Eight days of festival, twice that many must-sees — come help me cut the list?
Black Nights turns thirty this year and the opening ceremony in Tallinn is ten days out — so I'm doing my own dress rehearsal with nothing on underneath yet. Tell me it's the right one for night one.
Seven days until the whole Tallinn schedule drops and my notebook is already full of guesses. The sweater's the only thing that made it out of bed with me. Which night would you pick for me first?