The cinema is to see with new eyes. To walk out and leave unchanged, to withdraw without partaking in some transformation is either a proclamation of the absence of spirit, or the denial of movement (forever toward progress). Sixty seconds after a clock struck ten o'clock, I lost the familiar sound of my father and my mother's voice. My father, at an indeterminable time slid a brass key into a keyhole, turned on the engine with a slight of hand, and the car began to breathe. As the motor moved and the mouths of my parents opened and closed without making a sound, I saw this tirelessly familiar world differently. The world had not changed (as it rarely does), yet perhaps the curve of my eye refracted in the winter light, allowing me to pause all of the harsh movements of the earth and see the dreams I have so long imagined begin to form, if only for an instant.
Posted by m.m. at 7:27 AM