Script for Short Film

Celeste is a 9-to-5 office worker stuck in a routine and a job she didn't necessarily choose to pursue. One day, after work, she finds a skateboard on the train and decides to take it home and look for its owner. She begins to dream of a new life, one she would have chosen for herself; dreams and reality merge in a quest for her inner self.

Little Blue Flower from Station to Station was my first ever idea for a film. A lot of thought went into the project, and it’s still being built with all the experience I’m gaining through the years. The project is slowly turning into what could potentially be a feature film. Underneath, I leave my first entry into what the essence of the film initially was projected to be.

Overview

Little Blue Flower follows Celeste, a young woman living alone in Berlin and working a conventional 9–5 office job. During the long winter, her life becomes reduced to a repetitive cycle: home–work–home. The city is covered in snow, the streets are cold and grey, and the U-Bahn becomes the space through which she moves between the different parts of her life. As Celeste becomes increasingly aware of the monotony surrounding her, she begins to find comfort and freedom in her train journeys. The U-Bahn becomes more than a means of transportation. It becomes the only place where she has time to observe, think, and let her imagination wander. She watches the people around her, questioning their clothes, their behaviour, and the different ways they choose to express themselves. One morning, exhausted on her way to work, Celeste falls asleep on the train. When she wakes, she finds herself staring at a skateboard. It reminds her of the skateboard her father gave her when she was thirteen, and of the brief moment in her childhood when she imagined herself becoming a skater. Looking up, she sees a stereotypical skater standing nearby. The encounter brings back the reason she abandoned skating: she never felt that she belonged to the culture surrounding it. Later that day, Celeste finds another skateboard, abandoned on a train seat. This time, she decides to take it. What begins as a small and almost irrational decision slowly becomes a way of looking at her world differently. Unable to skate outside because of the winter, Celeste begins skating through the U-Bahn stations. The places she once experienced only as functional spaces — somewhere to walk through, transfer trains, and get to work — become her playground. She begins to zig-zag between pillars, ride through corridors, and deliberately move against the logic of the station. Instead of travelling from A to B as quickly as possible, she begins to explore the space itself. Through skating, Celeste develops a second identity. We see her moving through the same stations in her office clothes, following the rhythm of her everyday routine, and later returning in her own clothes, carrying her skateboard and moving freely through the same spaces. The station becomes a meeting point between these two versions of herself. As winter comes to an end, Celeste begins to wonder whether skating has only been an escape from her routine, or whether it has opened the door to something larger. She imagines taking this new way of seeing outside the stations and into the city. In the end, however, Celeste chooses not to keep the skateboard. She returns it to the train where she found it, leaving it behind for someone else to discover. The skateboard becomes a symbol of possibility — a tool that helped Celeste rediscover a part of herself, but one that was never meant to belong to her permanently. She leaves it behind and walks away, changed by the experience and uncertain of where she will go next.

Understanding the Story
The story is built around the duality between routine and discovery, work and play, movement and stillness. Celeste initially experiences the city through obligation. She moves through the same spaces every day, following the predetermined paths of work, public transport and home. Her movements have a purpose, but they rarely have freedom. The U-Bahn therefore becomes an important character in the story. It is a place designed for movement, but where people are expected to move in a very particular way: walk, wait, enter, exit, transfer, repeat. Everyone is travelling somewhere, usually without stopping to consider the space around them. Celeste begins by simply observing this world. She notices the people around her and becomes fascinated by those who seem to express themselves differently. The skater she encounters becomes an image of a life she once imagined for herself but abandoned because she felt she did not belong within that culture. When she finds the skateboard, she is allowed to reconsider that decision. Skateboarding allows Celeste to transform the way she interacts with her environment. The same station that previously represented repetition becomes a space for play, experimentation and imagination. She no longer moves through it according to its intended function. She creates her own paths, moving in circles, zig-zags and loops instead of simply travelling towards a destination. In this sense, skating becomes less about the sport itself and more about changing one's relationship with the everyday. The film asks what happens when we stop accepting our surroundings as fixed. Can a place designed only for transportation become a playground? Can a daily commute become a journey? Can something as simple as changing the way we move through a familiar space change the way we understand ourselves? Celeste's two ways of dressing and moving through the stations reflect this transformation. Her work clothes represent the version of herself that has adapted to the expectations of her everyday life, while her skating clothes allow another side of her personality to emerge. These identities exist simultaneously, rather than one replacing the other. The film is therefore also interested in the small acts through which we reclaim our individuality. Celeste does not suddenly escape her life or completely reinvent herself. Instead, she finds a small space within her existing routine where she can experiment with another way of being. The winter becomes an extension of this idea. It is a season of hibernation, when everything seems slowed down and reduced to necessity. The city becomes grey, cold and repetitive. Yet it is precisely within this period of stillness that Celeste begins to imagine movement.

Why Celeste? / Little Blue Flower
Celeste's name comes from a story her mother once told her about a little blue flower capable of healing the pain of the world. Her mother did not want her daughter to be entirely blue, however, and therefore called her Celeste — a name associated with the light blue of the sky. This idea becomes central to Celeste's character. At the beginning of the film, she is surrounded by grey. Grey streets, grey buildings, grey weather, grey routines. Her life has become almost colourless through repetition. Yet beneath this exterior is an imagination that has never disappeared. The skateboard becomes the small element of colour that enters her world. Celeste does not discover an entirely new person through skating. Rather, she reconnects with something that was already inside her — the thirteen-year-old girl who once wanted to skate, who was curious about the world, and who had not yet learned to question whether she belonged somewhere. The Little Blue Flower therefore represents a small source of joy and possibility within an otherwise ordinary life. Like a flower growing through concrete, it does not need to completely transform its surroundings to exist. It simply needs the space to grow. The skateboard itself becomes an extension of this idea. It is passed from one person to another, carrying the possibility of transformation with it. Celeste finds it, uses it to rediscover herself, and eventually leaves it behind for someone else. She does not need to own it. What matters is what it allowed her to see. The final image of the skateboard sitting alone in the train returns us to where the story began. Someone else may find it. Someone else may pick it up. Someone else's routine may be interrupted. And perhaps that is what Little Blue Flower ultimately proposes: that joy does not always arrive as a dramatic transformation. Sometimes it is simply a different way of looking at the same world.

A station can become a place of discovery and self-transit, and a skateboard can become a tool for self-exploration.