Sixth

Un long dimanche de fiançailles [2004]

I woke up in the middle of the night, went downstairs and began watching this film I have been meaning to see for a long time. I think I may have been dreaming about it when I woke up. About the heroine. Or more accurately, the actress playing the heroine, Audrey Tautou. The most beautiful Amélie Poulain imaginable. Spirit so tender, heart so true. Or maybe it is just that sleeping alone lightens my sleep. I was really concentrating on following the plot, when all of a sudden Jody Foster jumped onto the screen. And started talking French! I was so startled that I spilled the hot chocolate I was sipping on. There is a lot of killing in this movie. It does take place in a war, after all. Maybe being human means to be able to place infinite value on the life of every single person in this World. And when we go beyond indifference with regard to the loss of human life, when we actually start killing each other, deliberately, we lose our humanity. Lose our minds. Become mindless beasts. But what is it about killing fields, that turns so beautiful after the crime? It is as if Mother Nature quitely covers up the shame. And the resulting flowers try to blossom even more beautifully in these places. To compensate. Balance. Great beauty can spring from great pain. At heart, humans truly are lonely animals. We all want sombody to come looking for us, when we are lost. Right?

 

Finger painting

You remember that keyboard that I was salivating over a few months back?

Here is something of a similar cool factor.

Can you imagine?

Weird

Just when you thought that the strange Muhammed cartoon case couldn't cet any stranger, this is revealed.

Sheez.

Old friends know a lot

An old friend of mine called me last night. Late. Which meant that it was really late where he was calling from. He came straight to the point.

"Where are you?"

"What do you mean, where am I? You called me! And it's bloddy late, too."

Silence.

"Well, OK, I am at home. Trying to fall asleep. Which reminds me, when are you coming to visit? I have a real guestroom for you and whoever you travel with nowadays..."

"That's not what I meant."

"It's not?"

"No. Of course I know that you are at home, you putz. I asked you where you are. Now. In your life."

"Oh."

Silence.

"You know what? I don't know. It feels like I am on the move. Like someone packed me up and put me on a U-Haul to the next part of my life. That's where I am. In transit."

"So you're lost?"

"Maybe. If I am, it really isn't bothering me at the moment. No more than anything else that is sitting boxed up in the back of a moving van."

"You and your stupid metaphors."

"Love you too."

*Click*

The thing with friendships, as with most other relationships, is that as the years pass by, less needs to be said.