“This image of erasure and nothingness is echoed in the film’s unforgettable final image, a blank piece of paper that reflects the inability of these teens to communicate, to make themselves heard. They’re not even sure what they could say, what they could write, how they could capture what they’re feeling and thinking in mere words. The film’s title refers to that final scene, set by the side of a cold river in the middle of winter; the world is cold, and these teens huddle together to keep warm, but even with each other they can’t quite communicate. They don’t want to be alone, that’s all they know — anything else is mysterious, inexpressible, and a blank page might be the only thing they leave behind in the world.”
"The cameraman kept saying the film looked very beautiful, but I was never trying to achieve a beauty of the image: I was aiming for the beauty of truth. I always take as my motto what Robert Bresson said: you don’t have to make images that are beautiful, you have to make images that are necessary. And Bresson is a filmmaker who was, first of all, a painter."
"I feel that the language of painting belongs to the dawn of our time and civilisation, and, in a similar way, cinema belongs to its sunset. On the whole, cinema has a youthful image, but in fact I think it’s exactly the opposite. Once I was speaking with Antonio. ‘Have you seen,’ I said to him, ‘how quickly the cinema has become old? Like a child that has become prematurely old, in only one hundred years it has covered a huge amount of ground, which it’s taken other arts centuries and centuries to achieve.’ Then Antonio replied, and it’s something I’ll never forget: ‘Ah, but you see, cinema was born when man was already very old.’"