Eleven AI clips, one film, and a website you scroll through like a walkthrough.

The eleven clips came out of the generator at two slightly different resolutions, so the stitch is a re-encode: every clip scaled and cropped to one frame size, concatenated in order, 24 fps throughout.

Then the encode that makes the whole idea possible: a second copy where every frame is a keyframe (-g 1). A normal web video has a keyframe every few seconds, and seeking between them is slow and lands approximately — fine for watching, useless for scrubbing. All-intra means the browser can jump to any frame, in either direction, instantly. The file gets bigger; the interaction gets possible. Two other non-negotiables: strip the audio track (the page supplies its own), and host it somewhere that supports HTTP range requests, or seeking silently breaks.

Every source clip turned out to be exactly 97 frames long. That mattered more than expected: deriving scene boundaries from the video’s reported duration drifted by a few frames per scene (container padding), enough to land “resting frames” inside the next shot’s motion blur. Counting actual frames — scene i starts at i × 97 ÷ 24 seconds — made every slide rest on a clean, composed still.

The first build mapped scroll position directly to video time — the classic scroll-scrubbing site. It worked, but it had a flaw: visitors could park the scrollbar in the middle of a motion-blurred transition and sit on the worst frame in the film.

So the model changed from scrubbing to a slide deck. There is no free scroll at all. A wheel flick, swipe, arrow key or button click advances exactly one scene — and instead of jumping, the video plays itself forward to the next keyframe. The blurred hand-offs between clips, the thing I was trying to hide, became the slide transition. The worst footage in the film turned into its best feature. Scrolling back runs a fast reverse tween, which only works because of the all-intra encode. A short gesture cooldown keeps trackpad inertia from firing through three scenes at once.

A film alone doesn’t sell a building. On arrival at each keyframe the text choreography runs: a mono-spaced kicker and headline land first, a second line follows at just under a second, and then a paper callout card slides in with the architectural explanation — why the roof floats off the walls, why every room gets its own lotus pond, why the corridor is a place to linger rather than circulation. The copy is grounded in the real project and written to promote the stay, not just describe the footage.

During transitions all text clears, so the film carries the moment alone. The design system is this site’s own: Inter display type, JetBrains Mono labels, olive ink, paper white, one terracotta accent. A soft piano bed loops underneath, starting on the first gesture, with a mute toggle in the header.