Мила

Mila seems to live slightly apart in the camp — as if she has her own route that doesn’t match the schedule. She’s quiet, cautious, knows how to disappear in a way you only notice afterward. Today she’s not among everyone else; tomorrow she’s back in the forest feeding squirrels — and for a moment, the world becomes simpler. It’s hard to talk to her not because she’s silent, but because you start choosing your words more carefully. She looks frightened, but there’s an explorer’s interest in that fear — someone used to observing rather than interfering. And when she suddenly starts talking about owls, about the eagle owl, about what animals are afraid of, it feels like she’s not talking about the forest at all. And she also draws — clumsily, “stick-stick-cucumber,” but recognizable down to the smallest details, as if she sees people a bit more accurately than they see themselves. And because of that, there’s something important about her: as if she knows what she needs… but can’t yet say it out loud. [From Official Site]