For you, B.B.

Tonight at 9pm curfew starts in several cities in Europe. We are lucky as it will not affect us. For once, the long distance is our advantage.

Let me remember how it all starts with you. Some virtual exchanges. Some “likes” and “comments” here and there on social media. I have known you through your movies and acting. And lately I have gotten to know you as the most decent human being I have been in contact with. Every small words you write is well chosen. Never too much, never too few. You always have the right tone and I really appreciate you for that.

When I receive your words, I smile. They have made me feel happy for the last few months. Why? I do not really know why, but as said, maybe because they reflect your intelligence and certainly also a bit of your soul. One cannot write and react with care, refinement and delicacy without having an extremely developed emotional intelligence.

I like to exchange with you. I thought it was something quite normal to like to exchange with you. Until something happened. A few days ago, suddenly I saw that you unfollowed me on Instagram. I would not care about that if it had been someone else. But not you. It cannot be you. In one second, I felt like there was not enough blood coming to my heart and I could faint on the train. My heart physically ached. I could hardly breathe. I did not know what happened. The day before, you still wrote to me.

My whole life I have tried not to be vulnerable. Why would I feel so vulnerable that day ? I decided to write to you and ask you why you unfollowed me. That was the only way to do to know why, even though I had for a moment to expose myself and tell you how I felt. My courage received the most beautiful price. You wrote back to me and it was not you who did it. Something happened and you did not know why. A few others of your friends were also unfriended. You wrote to me that you would never do that to me and I am a treasure that you would never want to lose.

My heart from pain to succumbing, to melting. You make me feel new. Not only happy. New. That day I went to a piano rehearsal and I played with my heart and with you on my mind. I played exceptionnally well that day.

The next day we wrote the whole day. You were in New Mexico shooting a new movie. In spite of the time zone, you were with me the whole day. I told you that you are handsome and your beauty is illegal. You smiled and you did not agree with me. You told me you are old. For me, you are perfect. I insisted so many times. One day you will have to believe me. You will have no choice. You have to believe me that your heart and your soul are so special. I will insist until you believe.

The whole day I went through your Instagram pictures. I looked at your blue eyes, clear and sweet and plenty of good intentions. I told you that if I were a filmmaker and I was to shoot a movie, in my movie, the female main protagonist would fly to New Mexico and ask the male protagonist to marry her, all in 24 hours and fly back home. In spite of the Covid situation. In spite of everything that could happen in this world. You told me that in our movies, there would be very few scenes with dialogues, only gazes between the two people. That would be an intense movie – I said – with your eyes, blue like the ocean and your face, tanned and beautiful, where every wrinkle is placed perfectly, like a piece of art.

The day of your birthday I played the song on piano and sang for you. It was the first time I did it for someone. I told you that I did it for you because you deserved it. You said you were melting. I would do anything to make your heart melt even more. Or at least to make your heart sing and be happy all year round and not only at your birthday.

You had a dream about us. Your words that I copy here, words by words, because they are so beautiful: ” It was very sunny on a balcony. I was in the shade sitting on a table. And I told you to come in from the sun”. I told you about my dream during a nap. We were in the South of France, we were driving a convertible old Mustang like in the “Bullitt” movie. Dreams are with you, every time.

You want to know about the whole story of my life. Be sure that I will let you know me. Again I quote you, words by words: “If Bach has gotten to know you, I shall get to know you”. I remind you that if there is Bach anything is possible. On that one, we agree. On your beauty, you still fight back and tell me that I am wrong. But one day you will agree with me too.

People criticize Facebook and Instagram and the social media. I cannot say anything. They brought you to me. It is a wonderful gift. I wish us everything, I wish us more of everything. The sharing laughs, the longing, the melting hearts, the crazy imaginary movies we will make. Most of all, I wish you well and all the lovely things you could have, including me.

Happiness

Yesterday like any other evening they watched a movie. Apart. Around 8pm he always writes to her the name of the movie so that they can watch at the same time. They have been doing this for many years. After the movie they write to each other and share their thoughts on the movie.

Yesterday he picked a new movie “Hector and the search for happiness”, a light comedy of a psychiatrist and his journey in the search for happiness.

At midnight they asked each other what made them happy.

Happiness is defined by moments, short moments, long moments. An immediate well-being state of mind. There is nothing else to think about. For an instant, they are happy, just like that. Happiness is when they manage to be together. Time stays still when they are together. Only that counts. Happiness is when they forget about others, when the world outside does not exist for them anymore. Happiness is when they do not care about what could happen next. Only the “now” counts.

Happiness is looking at his eyes and seeing the light of the sun, and even the sun does not come out that day yet, it is still shiny enough. Happiness is smiling for nothing particular just because he is there.

Happiness is the idea of him. Only the idea.

Happiness is each silly emoticon he sends during the day to cheer her up.

Happiness is the good morning song he sends, the “how was your day” song he sends, the good night song he sends.

Happiness is how they live their feelings without worrying about the consequences or the future.

Happiness is how she can write about him for years and all the tiny little things concerning him could be like the universe for her.

Happiness is not only love or being loved, it is far beyond that feeling.

Happiness is particular, it is them and the way they keep on caring about their feelings.

Happiness is when there is no way out than to love each other the way they love each other. Even if they are apart and will be more than apart.

Happiness is knowing all the difficulties and not to avoid them.

Happiness is courage and in their case, certainly a great amount of craziness.

The Great Gatsby or something else ?

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“He smiled understandingly-much more than understandingly. It was one of those rare smiles with a quality of eternal reassurance in it, that you may come across four or five times in life. It faced–or seemed to face–the whole eternal world for an instant, and then concentrated on you with an irresistible prejudice in your favor. It understood you just as far as you wanted to be understood, believed in you as you would like to believe in yourself, and assured you that it had precisely the impression of you that, at your best, you hoped to convey.” (The Great Gatsby – F. Scott Fitzgerald)

It is difficult not to like the new “The Great Gatsby” movie, simply because the text written by Fitzgerald was so beautiful. I read the book at high-school. I remember I did not understand the whole meaning of it. I was seventeen. I remember having an oral exam on the book and had to talk about Daisy. Last night when I saw the movie I realized that by the time I did not even realize that Gatsby was that much in love with Daisy. I did not remember at all the pain and love of Gatsby in the 1974 movie with Redford and Farrow. But this time it hit me so strong. Maybe because I am in love and I can now fully understand the kind of love and obsession Gatsby had for Daisy. For a moment I felt a bit uncomfortable during the movie. I was irritated because I was with a friend and when the movie ended I just wanted to be by myself and stay in silence but he kept asking me my opinions about the movie. I found the movie beautiful because each word written by Fitzgerald made sense to me. More by now than when I was seventeen. I finally understood Gatsby and the book. I felt pain because Gatsby’s dream pursuit was so absolute and impossible. It was unbearable to see such unique belief in love, in dreams, in conquests. I was touched and that was probably why I liked this new version of The Great Gatsby. I found it explicit, exuberant and extremely modern. Showing love in that way is attractive to me. But at night I had an very agitated sleep.

This morning I decided to go for a walk in the park to get for my mind some fresh air. The movie of yesterday evening still got into me. I walked through the park and took only pictures of the flowers. It was raining and cold for the month of May. But the colors of the flowers were absolutely perfect. In spite of  the grey sky the flowers still looked magical. It was strange. My eyes and my body were not in harmony because I got cold after a while but my eyes were completely satisfied with what I saw. It went on like that, this strange feeling during the whole time I was walking through the park. It made me think of my love for him. It is not always in harmony with what I think, with my brain but it does not matter. Sometimes my body feels pain of missing him, but my heart is so blessed that it does not matter. It was like the cold my body felt in the park. The imperfection of the moment. Yet the eyes were still captivated by the beauty of the flowers. My love for him is like the flowers in the park under the cold rain. A perfection remains in harmony with the imperfection of the situation. photo-152

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Then my mind wandered back to the movie. I felt like Gatsby. Full of hopes and dreams and illusions. Innocence. Purity. Was it because of the movie? Or the book? Or the nature? Or the flowers? Or the love for him ? Or simply a bit of all of it together? I did not know the answer, yet it felt good that way.

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Laurence anyways

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Sunday evening – The last few days I thought that spring has finally shown up – I went to see a movie of the young Canadian director Xavier Dolan – “Laurence anyways”. Laurence is a high school teacher in Montreal, he writes poems, loves his girlfriend Fred and has a secret. Laurence feels like a man trapped in a woman’s body and the day he decides to share his deep secret to Fred, their exceptional love falls apart as Fred cannot stand the idea of seeing Laurence in a dress and with high heels. The movie is powerful in showing these struggling lovers, even though loving each other terribly, still cannot save their love. Laurence could not make Fred understand that his desire of being a woman has nothing to do with his love for Fred. Fred leaves Laurence, gets married, has a child. The movie is masterly directed. The soundtrack with music of the 90s gives goosebumps. Laurence never forgets Fred. He comes back to her twice but in vain. In the end he is beautiful as a woman but the expression of his face shows so much of suffering of the lost love.

It was unbearable to watch.

I got out of the movie theatre. I was with his mother. Spring was illusion. It started to snow again. It was cold once again. We said goodbye in the bus. I got out at another stop. We did not talk a lot in the bus. The movie was still in us. I believe.

I think of him.

I think of the love for him. On the bus.

I love his forehead. I love his eyebrows. I love each of his eyelashes. I love his left ear, his right ear. Swollen because of the fights. I love his chin, his lips, his twice-broken nose, his three-day beard with some grey parts. I love his arms, his forearms, his elbows, his tattoos. I love his hands, his fingers, dry because of the winter. I love his scars. I love each detail of him.

I love him like Laurence loves Fred in the movie. Like everything.

But exceptional love can be lost. As in the movie.

And as yesterday was spring and tonight is snow.

So I love him in no illusion.

An exceptional love in no illusion. tumblr_mby9mvnD4a1qi6bpc

In slow motion

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I like my state of mind

Thoughts spin in my head like a spider web

I like my dependency these days

My weakness

My fragility

My body hungers for his

I like my lips dry

Craving for his

I like my nonchalance

Love slows me down

I have time to feel

I like my hands – my fingertips

Remembering his skin

I am in slow motion

Rewind scene by scene

Instant by instant

The movie of my life

Everyone has his own beast or Beasts of the Southern Wild

2012_beasts_of_the_southern_wildThis was how I entered 2013 – I went to see this stunning movie

“Beasts of the Southern Wild”

Or the whole question is:

“Why do we stay where we love, why do we love the people we love, even if we know that bad things could happen right there…”

“Could we love the beauty which comes from chaos?”

“Could we dream out of survival?”quvenzhanewallis_beastssouthernwild2

And the voice of Hushpuppy, a five-years old girl who lives in the “Bathtub” with her father –

“When it all goes quiet behind my eyes, I see everything that made me flying around in invisible pieces. When I look too hard it goes away. And when it all goes quiet, I see they are right here. I see that I’m a little piece of a big, big universe and that makes things right. When I die, the scientists of the future, they’re gonna find it all. They’re gonna know, once there was a Hushpuppy and she lived with her daddy in the bathtub.”

“The entire universe depends on everything fitting together just right”

“If you can fix the broken piece, everything can go right back.”

“I can count on two fingers the number of times I’ve been lifted up”beasts_of_the_southern_wild_008

Before the movie, I was a mess.

After the movie, I was a mess.

Suffocated in emotions

Everyone has his own beast.

Which one is mine ?

The shadows of my life

“Why do people have to be this lonely? What’s the point of it all? Millions of people in this world, all of them yearning, looking to others to satisfy them, yet isolating themselves. Why? Was the earth put here just to nourish human loneliness?” (Sputnik Sweetheart – Haruki Murakami)

Yesterday I went to see a movie with your parents. I had to pick a movie, they told me, anything except an American blockbuster. I chose “360”, the movie from the Brazilian director of “City of God”. The movie is a mish mash of different short stories. Different characters come together at some point and some don’t. Even though the stories were quite uneven, I did like the way the movie served the cause: showing the nature of human relationships and the human loneliness, showing how people change or evolve. It started with a scene with Jude Law as a business man, on a business trip, waiting for a call-girl at the bar of his hotel, and in a second decided to stay faithful to his wife and walked away. Although during the whole movie, it seemed like nothing great or important was going to happen, I still enjoyed every minute of it. I liked the way a random encounter could change one’s life.

I spent the rest of the evening with your parents. Talking about life, things and you. You were far away. I have always seen your parents when you were away. It was like an agreement. And of course, when I left them, it was always a bit hard to stay for a moment in the past, with memories and things. About you. It was sweet and weird at the same time that I have always stayed in touch with your parents. As if they were the link between us and not the other way round. I think if we took you out of the equation, we would still see each other without you. And it was exactly what we did. We saw each other and you were never there. Though you were very present during the whole evening. Sometimes I just wonder why I have imposed to myself such bittersweet moments. I haven’t thought of you for days, weeks and I have felt peace. But then I knew that seeing your parents would put me back, right there in a form of sadness and nostalgia. Still, I accepted to live that moment, of pleasure mixed with tiny sensations of pain. My heart once again was brave. On the way home. I could hear its voice: “Why would you do that to me, each time? What did you want to prove to yourself? That you are strong and courageous? “. I could hear my heart complaining.

Last night I wanted to write to you. But I realized I had nothing to say to you. I had all your news from your parents. Instead I wrote to a man I met recently. Someone who had entered my life in a particular way. An accidental encounter like in the movie. And somehow it has changed my life. Just simply as the fact that I wrote to him more than to you. I think of him more often than of you.

When I fell asleep, I realized that nothing had much changed. I might have evolved a bit since the day we said goodbye to each other. But so far my loneliness of a Sunday night stayed exactly the same. I could hear my heartbeats, for you and for this new person in my life. Same rhythm of melancholy and a certainty that both of you will always be just a sweet eternal shadow of my life.

True romance – You are so cool…

Thanks to you I watched this movie again – “True romance” – what a great movie and romance. The voice of Patricia Arquette is as sweet as honey. Love the first time she said “I love you” to Christian Slater outside, in the night…Love the soundtrack.

Love this speech:

"Amid the chaos of that day,
when all I could hear
was the thunder of gunshots...
and all I could smell
was the violence in the air,
I look back and am amazed...
that my thoughts
were so clear and true--
that three words went through
my mind endlessly,
repeating themselves
like a broken record.                 
"You're so cool.
You're so cool."

Like someone in love

It is impossible to look at the sun. You should look at the shadows to recognize the sun (Abbas Kiarostami)

I came across this article yesteday. About the new movie of Abbas Kiarostami.

“Like someone in love”. I like the title. I like the picture.

I like the expression on her face. Checking her text messages. Calm.

The day I fall in love, I would like to look like her.

And you talked about movies

Rare are the people in the film business who could talk about another movie with such honesty and sincerity. You did it with my mother’s movie. You were afraid I could not hear some of your observations because I could be subjective trying to defend it. You said you liked the movie for its singularity and audacity. And also for its spirit and the poetic sensitivity one can feel through the movie. But you found it too heterogeneous because it offered too many elements with complicated access for a normal spectator.

You said that the question of reality in a movie is crucial. We all want to twist this reality as a filmmaker and the more we distant the movie from its reality, the bigger the difficulty to watch it will be for an average spectator.

You did not believe we could dissociate the intellect from the human sensitivity and/or the feelings we can have while seeing a movie and the ones we have in real life, what moves us is always related to our ideas, our memories and personal experiences. Memories and experiences that we bring along with us while watching a movie with new stories and unknown characters. It was a trip we made together, spectators and filmmakers.

You said you had felt such richness in the world and in the movie of my mother. You hoped she will have more occasions to express it and to transmit it in a stronger, more direct and maybe simpler way.

You made me think about writing. Writers and readers are partners. They meet somewhere in the process of creativity and reading. Writers put their heart and soul into the piece they had written. Readers acknowledge the sharing and read it with their own past and experiences. And somewhere in their personal memories and lives they realize they are united with the authors through some pages and some chapters. It is the beauty of writing and reading. When I read a book, some stories just go straight to my heart. I can’t help but say to myself: “It was exactly like that”. I am carried away by the power of the words. The same thing happens with movies, just as you said after having seen my mom’s movie. How many times I have wished I had made that powerful movie or had written that stunning novel? A hundred of times. Because it expresses exactly what I feel and I have found myself in it so deeply.

You analyzed my mother’s movie with objectivity and affection due to our friendship. This was also what we shared, among other things.

Her second movie is on the way. I wish we could see it together. And discuss it together. Like in old times.