NOVEMBER 11

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November 11. The final day of BRIDGE OF PEACE.
And the day Europe remembers it knows how to kill.

On this day in 1918, the guns of the First World War fell silent.
Not out of mercy — out of exhaustion.
Millions dead. Trenches. Mud. Gas. And silence at 11 a.m.
France lost 1.4 million lives — nearly one in four men.
Since then: wreaths at the monuments, brass bands on village squares, and one minute of stillness.
Grief turned ritual. As it should be.

We’re closing the BRIDGE OF PEACE festival on this day for a reason.
Five days. Fifty films.
Directors, viewers, and stories from every corner of the world.
No illusions. No pomp. Just people who don’t want war to become normal again.
Some films lingered long after the credits.
Others slipped quietly inside and stayed — like memories you’re not ready to let go.

Today, we announce the winners.
But what matters more is that these stories were told.
They’re not decoration. They’re resistance.
Against indifference. Against forgetting. Against the next war.
Sometimes cinema says what diplomats have forgotten. Or no longer dare to say.

Today, the festival ends.
But the bridge remains.
And everyone who walked it knows:
Peace isn’t silence.
It’s a voice. Human. Fragile. Real.