Every night, Nani knits the night for Asha's window. One night she dozes off with a thread left loose, the cat pulls it, and morning comes at midnight — so Asha carries the whole night up a ladder and throws it back into the sky.
Takes ten seconds. Your stars and comments shape the next storyboards.
16 keyframes. 4 ghost frames — the one-change-per-edit steps between them — are hidden; switch them on at the bottom left.

Every night, Nani knits the night for Asha's window, one row at a time.

Every star is a little knot of pale wool.


Nani has fallen asleep. One loose thread of night hangs down into the room.

The cat notices.


The cat pulls — and the top of the night comes undone. Behind it is morning.

The more it pulls, the more of the night unravels into a ball on the rug.


The whole night is a ball of wool. It is morning in the middle of the night.

Outside, the whole town wakes up at midnight and squints at the sun.

Asha picks up the night.

She carries it up onto the roof, where a ladder goes up into the sky.

At the very top, she lifts the ball of night over her head.

She throws it — and the night unrolls across the sky.


Night again. The stars are back. The town goes back to bed.

Home. Asha is asleep, and the night is back in the window.

The cat is awake. It is holding something.

One star never made it back.









