free man
My computer got broken.
Well, to many people this stands in the same row, like "my iron got broken" of "my vacuum" got broken. Ok, maybe closer to TV set or stereo system. Not for me. Suddenly I had to look around and admit that for me computer though has not replaced iron or vacuum, but definitely TV, CD player, telephone, newspapers and most importantly link to the world.
I know that computers are strictly deterministic devices, but I tried to boot it again and again and finally it said - boot record is damaged, meaning there is no way I can start it. I know for sure how the program works, but I would try it again, maybe somehow it'll change its mind and start booting again.
Suddenly I have all the evening free. And most probably the next too, and next, until I did not fix it or buy a new one. I feel like a slave getting free - like getting out of the womb again.
Recently I am getting more and more of that. All my life I used to build artificial wombs and tried to get cozy there, but recently I am getting thrown from them one by one.
I have plenty of time and no dependents. What shall I do?
Thanks god I did not get a cable here. Otherwise I would watch the box till midnight flipping channels and have a competition: who will win my attention: a leggy girls in semi-reality show or hockey gladiators or crocodiles from Discovery channel. And do not bet against crocodiles - quite often they are more entertaining than hockey and definitely than reality, because they ARE reality, and they are not paid to survive, they do it on their own.
So, no TV, that’s good. no CD - that's not too good, but I can listen in my car. Though somehow listening to music usually is something you do in addition – to chatting, to playing online, to reading or working. Even I, who spend a lot of time listening to music, would not be able to listen all the night not doing anything in addition.
What's left? I guess I have to get back to my teens or early 20s and re-start reading again. Not that this thought came as a revelation and put me back in a good mood, but there was a goal – something to do for tonight. (Or rather not good mood, but usual one - actually most times I do not really know what mood I am in - it is usual, not good, not bad, especially if I do not recall money, or empty house back in Canada)
Anyway - I know Barnes and Noble in 10 min of drive and I will get there and spend evening there like it is possible in deep chairs back in Toronto's Chapters.
I think to me the process of choosing in more important than consuming. No, not in everything. Grocery, clothes - I do not like that and take whatever is at least bearable, not looking for better. But books, music, movies or computer parts - that I can be choosing for hours.
Unfortunately this Barnes and Noble was not what I used to, though everything was standard - Starbucks, elevator music, and huge painting with greats of XX century from Faulkner to Bernard Shaw on the wall. But aura was not the same, maybe because the store was used by people to go through it in the big mall.
Anyway, what do they read nowadays? The selection they carry in Barnes and Noble or Borders or Chapters is pretty standard. I was wondering is there a process of throwing off the shelves some authors who did not perform well? Like, Mr. Faulkner, how many books of yours were sold last month? We are sorry, but we have to make room for Mr. Grissom. But to my eye, the set is the same for years and nobody seems to move out. Maybe they in fact throw out only those who nobody remembers.
Chicks’ novels have the nicest covers. I think that mostly for customers the impulse to buy is not a critics' word and even not a friends' advice (it is rather unusual to share views about books at a water cooler), but a cover picture.
At least it is an impulse to take the book from the shelf and flip through it hoping to find something that catch the eye. Like sex scene or joke - anything. All heroines are either book editors or public relations types. I guess that's a direct connection - you read so much stuff that you know you can do no worse - and here we go. Next dating novel from a bright new name out of London or NYC, new Bridget Jones.
And why would only they do it?
Suddenly I felt urge to sit on the floor and write a book about life and love and death and freedom. First came the title "A Free Man". Perhaps there are dozens of this and all are copyrighted. Title is money - that's why it is not the author makes the title, but publisher, and perhaps nowadays special companies specialized on titles. I am not joking - the name IBM's PC Aptiva does not belong to IBM, but to a marketing company that was hired to make commercials. (Bad example – who today remembers Aptiva – 1999 is like ancient year today).
Ok, at that moment I knew, I will buy a book, but I won't read it. I will write a book. Oh, let's not talking about a book, I will write something. The idea was so clear and bright that I even forgot about broken computer. But reality came down fast - how the hell will I write without computer. I would not be able to use pen - that's for sure. I do too many grammar errors and I like to read and re-read and replace paragraphs.
First snag in such a great project.
But still the idea of sudden freedom made everything brighter. I will go to a bar, sit there, smoke, listen to a nice music and write the beginning on a napkin.
I recall all great stories from Hemingway to Erenburg about writing in Paris cafes. (Now I think it would be quite inconvenient to do it there now for 2 reasons: 1) tables there are the size of big pizza and you would not be able to put an arm there (though laptop may help); 2) all chairs in Paris cafe situated the way you always face street and passersby, so you will be constantly distracted with the looks of women and if you are an author you will be constantly guessing their backgrounds, their characters, their lives, especially their love lives. (had she had sex today, masturbated?)
The bar I got to was far cry from Hemingway's. Almost completely dark and a lot of tv screens for every taste - I mean for every sport fan test - baseball, basketball and hockey. They took a cover charge promising bikini contest. I never saw it before so the evening still looked promising. I do not like beer, but in this bar I ordering it - it would be too cumbersome to explain the barmaid what wine I want (though it is very simple - Chilean merlot, or Australian shiraz), just somehow you know that in this place it is inappropriate.
I watched hated baseball and wrote my novel.
I am free. It happened not for the first time. Once it happened 3 years ago when my wife left. I remember it was not feeling of freedom back then. It was rather emptiness. Like the anchor was cut and I started drifting somewhere. I continued to function mechanically and then I was freed once again – from my job. After 10 years at THE BIGGEST CORPORATION ON EARTH it was not feeling of freedom again, but rather feeling of being pushed from the plane. Sky diver is supposed to feel free, but ultimately there is a surface somewhere below and eventually you will land in a couple of minutes.
But computer made me free.
So time to make preliminary conclusions. In common terms, it is mid-life crisis. All signs are here, wife is gone, son moved away, no steady job. And even Porsche. Not really a Porsche, but a new Celica is a Porsche by my standards. I can be liked by women (especially from waist and above), but I have a couple of pounds to lose and you better see my hairs from front and not from above or back. I can be witty and even wise sometimes, I can think paradoxically and find right decisions, but there is something that my ex defined “you are smart, but I need kindness”.
But I guess I am getting ahead of time. It is supposed to be clear in the end, though I have no idea where we go.
People think that authors know what they want to talk about. Maybe sometimes they do. But I remember how Charlie Chaplin was working on Big City Lights. He started filming not having a clue about not only plot, but even idea. He just filmed his main actress and hoped that something will descend on him - and it did. I always thought that a real artist creates because he cannot not to do. The guy who punched mammoths pictures in the cave with a stone hammer did not think about praise of contemporary, never mention NYC critics a couple of thousands years later. He just got excited doing that. Perhaps he did not orgasmed, but I believe he got pretty close. Same with Van Gogh and even Gainsborough, even Michelangelo though he painted for money. But I am not sure about Engr for example or Hitchcock. Ok, those of 20 century they are special beasts, some corrupted with money and fame and paraphrasing Lenin, “the art got too close to masses”. But if my logic is right – that the goal itself is the process of writing and I should be happy just doing that. Now only to figure out, am I right or what?
A couple of days ago a woman in a chat room messaged to me and started asking funny questions. She is 32 and married and she figured out that she should write.
- Write what?
- Poems.
- Why do you do it?
- Why not?
- Have you written anything before?
- Not really
- Why do you think anybody would want to read it?
- I remember I wrote something in school and one person (not relative) was impressed
That’s it. She was concerned where to send what she will write and how to protect it from stealing. I said you should check Yellow Pages and she was very thankful – “I knew by your name you will help me”. One poet more on Earth. Who cares? She will be getting thrill while writing and judging by her energy, her book might come soon in a Borders near you.
But they do remove some stuff from the bookstore shelves. I remember there was a French writer Aline Reyes with twisted sensual novels. I remember 10 years ago they were near one another: Reyes and then Anne Rice. Rice at that time only started writing under her current name, before she did slow-hand erotica under the name of Rockambolle or something like that. While now Rice takes the whole shelf, Reyes disappeared. Does anybody remember her? Not likely in America, maybe only me, and only because she was just ahead of Rice on the shelf.
The night in the bar was going from bad to worse, all games finished, they started hard rock with basses that shake you from inside. I left at midnight learning nothing about bikini contests. Perhaps the potential participants were too shy this night. Though I do not think I would be excited seeing those who were in there in bikini. There was a usual contradiction there – young girls saw through me, and I could not help but did the same with a few those of my age.
***
Getting single especially affected me in two areas: going to cinema and to restaurants. That’s where I hate to go alone. To go to eat somewhere alone is of course possible, but you have to be really a gourmet to make an effort to drive somewhere to pay substantially more and have to drive back stuffed and sleepy. To go to a movies alone while most of audience are couples or more, even less enjoyable. It is like watching porno when they showed them in cinemas. No wonder that business model is dead now. But there is a positive side to that: you do not have to watch so much trash. They do not make more than 2-3 good movies in year anyway. Stalin once noticed that and tried to solve the problem in usual tsar’s way. The logic was simple. If out of 100 movies a year, only 10 are more or less decent – why we waste money making the other 90%? So after 100 or so movies in 1950, they made 12 in 1952. Unfortunately the ratio remained the same, or maybe even ducked a little and there was not a film worth watching that year. He did not have time to experiment further and his followers were not so strict and soon production got back to 100-150.
Last year it was only one good movie – About Schmidt. Unexpectedly good for Hollywood and scary for public, though public apparently did not get scared. I do not really why. That’s the kind of movie that soviet censors routinely banned, just because it did not show the bright hope ahead. Essentially small Hollywood censors at each studio do this pretty much all along, but this time they failed. Maybe it was too much money spent on Nicholson and they had to recoup them, you never know – a masterpiece was born.
This year I was hoping it would be Lost in Translation. By all means I should be the one who is the most responsive to this movie. I am hero’s age, tired and bored, I can even chat with young girls (online mostly). Everything promised light sadness and touching entertainment. Was I wrong. Perhaps Coppolla is too young to understand a guy my age, perhaps she thought she could create an aura just hinting around. I do not know. This is supposed to be a talk film. How else you bridge the gap between generations? And only one meaningful dialogue was like that:
- Will it be easier?
- I do not know.
Pretty realistic, of course, but I want something more. I want more for her ask and more for him to answer. If she so dumb that does not ask, why is he interested in her? If he is so dumb that only mumble that kids are good, though she did not ask that, and he does not look the best of fathers, forgetting birthdays of his kids. If he is such, why is she interested in him? Just because there is nobody else around? Is it a good or at least enough reason? What is better to intercourse socially only for killing time or not to intercourse at all? Why she did not asked that?
Questions are always more interesting than answers. But they were like gays in American army – do not ask, do not answer. And she looked as old and tired as he is.
***
I read that Goethe had 5 stands for writing in his study. Sure he was a rich man and had a big study, but 5 seem to be a little bit too much. Now I understand that when you write a thought that comes across can be so ephemeral that you do not have time to run to a paper and write it down. That’s why he run to a closest and then perhaps had all the troubles programmers have now trying to synchronize data coming from different sources. That’s a fascination topic – how technology has been changing creativity. And I think - in no way. Yes, it easier to edit and you do not need to re-write and we are supposed to make less errors. Although Churchill deliberately made errors in his speeches to sound closer to a people. I am not a politician and I would never understand this. To me typos are like a bad breath in real life.
This is curious when you type and make an error, Word editor waves red flags like he is watching you and genuinely wants to help. Is it Word, or is it nameless Microsoft programmer who thought about me? Once on my birthday I logged to Yahoo or Excite or somewhere similar and was surprised to see flashes and blinking – it congratulated me. I know it is me who entered my date of birth when I signed up, but still had some weird thankful feeling – never mind people, but a cold box remember – by the way – computer so far is not a cold box – it is pretty warm and if you get inside hard drive is hot outright, but they work on it.
***
I wanted to write something easy and humorous about an old man looking for a some romance, that soon realized I know nothing about the subject. Sometimes I can get into a nice rapport with young women, especially when they cannot see me (apparently I tend to overestimate my exterior), but I never feel with them anything more than a mild amusement, and they feel nothing more than maybe talking to a teacher – not the one they get crushes about, but those old farts.
The only thing that I know about is my ex wife, love of my life and a nail in my coffin. Like Saul Bellow’s Herzog I have written her innumerable letters after our breakup but sure enough never sent. That’s a story with a sad end that cannot be changed. But she has been my demon and we are supposed to get rid of demons when we pull them from unconsciousness and see how simple and logical everything is. It is widely suggested that you are over your ex then you stop caring. That is you nor love, neither hate, just forget, and it may take up to 12 years to accomplish it. Well, then perhaps my computer got broken too early. I have to get rid of demons if I truly want to be a free man. For those years that have passed since our breakup, there was no night that I did not think about her, about us, about what’s happened. We were very compatible intellectually, compatible emotionally and sexually. Nor me, neither her will never find anybody understanding each other better. But perhaps it is not the blessing. Many times I noticed that she is not too comfortable that I can read her thoughts, especially those that she tried to hide. And of course perhaps the equal amount of times I failed to read what she wanted me to read.
We spent together 25 years and 3 months and apparently still could not speak each other’s language. I wonder how really happy couples do? Maybe they just do not get so deep? Maybe they just do not care? Or perhaps, we were too egotistic to always feel for each other? I do not know. That’s why I write this.
We met in university amateur theatre. I was coming from a difficult for me year. I failed 2 courses and seriously thought about quitting. A friend of mine invited me and two my buddies to this theatre. In fact it was rather a club, not a theatre. For the whole year there were perhaps 10 performances – and the rest – rehearsals 3 times a week. The main attraction was this feeling of creativity and appreciation of art, that sometimes appears in technical schools.
She was a star there. Luckily I was not attracted to her initially. In fact I do not even remember why she was a star – she did not act too good and she was not the most beautiful, but she behaved as such and that was what mattered.
I recognized her interest a little later. I used to read some polish magazines. She and her girlfriend came up and she quite unceremoniously grasped the magazine from my hands saying, “We’ll have something to read now”. I said, “ somebody maybe will read, but the rest will have just to look at pictures”. She did not know Polish and felt snubbed. She was used to admiration and I immediately became a challenge or at least a puzzle, which might invoke an interest.
Instinctively I did everything right. I was not too interested and I did not rush. I even did not recognize her interest too well and this made her competitiveness boiling. We chatted a lot, but never alone. We were like watch’s hands getting to 12, only I was a short, a slow one. The “12” happened 3 months later. I do not remember was it me invited her to movies or it just happened, but it was a couple of days before New Year that two of us went together to a movie. It had all signs of a date: a phone call beforehand (I never called her before), a long walk after movie and a kiss goodbye. I had always been uncomfortable with social kisses. It is very intimate act for me and I hate wasting it thanking for nice dinner or for more or less entertaining evening. We were standing near her apartment building and apparently everything was said and done, but she was like waiting for something. The only known to me resolution – shaking hands – did not seem quite appropriate and I did not learn to kiss the hand at that time. I remember feeling absolutely silly when I awkwardly moved to kiss her cheek. But she was expecting it and she brushed off my awkwardness and kissed me into my lips. It was anything close to a French kiss, just a natural kiss of acknowledgement of a good time we had together and mutual attraction.
After that things got going much faster. We started seeing each other every day and there were no more attempts to kiss into cheek. Within a week or two our petting became quite heavy. What I was sold on was that she did not have any hang-ups as to where to allow my wandering hands. She was not shy and she liked being petted and was not ashamed at all. In a matter of week or two as soon as we got together, my hands momentarily got under her skirt, pulled her panties aside and we had been enjoying this intimacies for hours.
****
I keep reading personals on yahoo and elsewhere. Yes, any healthy person would get bored after 10 minutes, but I have a dark determination and slight hope. When I was a 6th grade student, I won district math contest because was able to solve a problem by simple dull checking of all possibilities. While everybody else tried to solve it by method, I just mined data and was lucky enough. I am trying to say that sometimes dull checking could be creative.
Anyway, what strikes me is a totally wrong approach. People obediently compile their likes and dislikes in fanatic trust that this will create ideal couplehood. Though even if we accept that they say truth (pretty fat assumption, because even without mean intentions, working out or spending time with family sounds better than chain smoking or watching soaps). Even if they say truth, who said that the same interests predispose happy couplehood. If two people say they “like outdoors”, it may mean that one likes fishing and another singing. In this case singing can disturb fish. Even more strange is how many people who spend mostly their spare time chatting online, how many of them claim that they love being outdoors. Perhaps it is a reaction to a surrounding and a statement of a dream.
But the approach is faulty at the core. When people love each other they do not allow their differences to be destructive. It is when the love is gone, that’s when compatibility matters. So effectively this is a defensive strategy, like insurance on what will happen after. And should it be any ‘after’ after all? I do not have an answer, I just question. Pretty sad, actually.
But after a just a few profiles, I cannot stop feeling something false. Intelligent, independent, attractive, stunning photo – and you think, gosh, if everything is so nice, why the hell she is single and looking for somebody. There should be line spinning around to her and males should fist fight for her under her balcony. And even if we assume that there is no deliberate lies over there, of course who would put anything negative into commercial, unless it is government mandated (“this miraculous potion against baldness may cause nausea, diarrhea, infertility and premature death to some unlucky bastards”)
Why every second commercial says “no mind games”? If you are a neophyte to the scene, you might wonder, what’s wrong with being playful. After a while you realize that it is those who write this who were hit by jerks who claimed to be millionaires, but in fact put an ad, while their wives were in the shower. I guess I have to assume the same can be true in opposite sex. But even if we talk only about sincere ads, the problem is that by definition you are selling yourself and emphasize the best features.
I think here is a key to the issue. Our drawbacks are just a continuation of our advantages. So maybe, independent might mean aloof and bitchy? Intelligent might mean arrogant? Romantic = pretentious? Smart? What is a continuation to smart? Being stupid?
What about myself? Oops, I think I have to add that I have a bald patch.
Fair and original.
What else? The strongest accusation that my ex made is that I do not need people. Formally she is right. I am mostly alone, do not like small talk too much and generally being reserved. But whether I need or not, it is a different matter. In the end whatever you do in life, it makes sense only if you can share it with somebody, to tell how was your day to somebody, however dull that day was. So the question is essentially not whether I need – everybody needs (even Unabomber needed audience) – the question is what kind of people. By above reasoning I guess I should choose stupid arrogant bitches. But we can concede a lot of our faults, but not brain quality. Nobody seriously believes he or she is stupid. Maybe not quick, maybe erratic, but not stupid outright. So I have to settle on intelligent and smart ones.
I think that the net changes gender roles. While before the model was: male is pursuer, female is pursuee. Now let’s put this onto the net. With ‘ignore’ button used as freely, after a while males lose interest because 9 times out of 10 they will be ignored. While if a female messages first and avoids ‘asl’ request in the first line, she is pretty much assured of response. Effectively gender roles are changing, females discover pleasures of pursuit and those shy nice girls who follow the old roles, now left to complain that it is only jerks online now.
***
Not a lot of people know that the net, we know it now, is essentially a French invention. Yes, technically tcpip protocol was conceived in American universities with pentagon funding. But the American idea was to create the system for defense purposes. Communication between scholars came as a byproduct. Never mention introduction of http and browser in 1993 - only then it became something for people. While French Minitel system, which was launched in 70-80s was designed as a consumer product and was funded by state. And sure enough as anything that state touches it appeared quite inextensible. You had 8 lines of text and could check weather and movie times and message to a stranger (not instantly though). Sure enough this cannot win with Netscape browser, Microsoft Windows, and Intel processors. So state money were wasted over and over again. But bragging rights belong to French. Along with HDTV-SECAM system, which was ready in early 80s but could not take off, Concord, which took off, but ultimately came to an infamous halt and Ariane rocket.
French are the most socialistic people in their souls. All Marx’s ideas came from that background. Why on earth communist revolution happened in Russia? It was the least suitable place for that. It should happen in France, boil there for 5 years, kill 5 thousand people and die there with a guilty verdict and never get any further. Instead it lasted almost 100 years and killed 120 millions.
I have an explanation why it failed. The thing is that its ideas appeal to the best qualities that human has. Commiseration, brotherhood, etc. And this in my view was a cardinal error. The first concentration camp was set in bucolic Kizhi Island in northern Russia in 1921. (way before German concentration camps, btw). On the gates there was a slogan: “We’ll bring humankind to happiness with an iron fist”. Do you feel it? It was about happiness to everybody, no matter sacrifices. Dostoevsky with his “revolution is useless if it cost a drop of blood of innocent child” was left aside. Communists wanted happiness for everybody and did not want to settle for anything else – that’s quite a Russian approach. And this appellation to most humane values was an error. They should appeal to the most inferior features.
Marx considered Adam Smith as one of his teachers. But according to Smith capitalism is successful just because it appeals to greed and self-preservation. The shopkeeper smiles to his customer not because he likes him, but because he is hoping to sell and get richer. But maybe if one smiles all the day (or at least 8 hours a day, 40 hours a week), maybe it becomes a habit and if he is happy in the process of enrichment, maybe he would like people a little bit more? My mom used to say, if you call a person a pig 10 times, on 11th time, he would oink. Obviously to be among happy people is more rewarding than among mean jealous creatures whose goal is not be happy themselves, but do not let you be happier than they.
****
There are certain signs that you are looking for when you meet a stranger. After most obvious superficial characteristics, you try some joke, looking for a reaction; some association, etc. In each language/cultures there are many circles that have some signs to determine if somebody belongs. In Polish you have to mention Mleczko - if the other party smiles - you can be sure his/her sense of humor is compatible to yours. His pictures are hilarious and his humour is recognizable and if somebody likes him, you can continue talking with confidence. In Russian language for me it was Victoria Tokareva - not the flashy name, but a woman with utmost paradoxical way of thinking. The first story that I read being 15 years old was "A day without lying", I remember almost sentence by sentence to this day. Very simple plot - a guy decided that he lies too much and starts telling the truth - and of course nobody believes him. Telling truth became the form of disguise. Quite refreshing approach.
In America to me the sign is the movie 'Before sunrise'/'Before sunset'. It is gaining the cult status (among followers of course). The movies are absolutely brilliant technically - how else you can say about 2 hours of walking and talking and you cannot tear away from it. Some strong internal dynamics keeps pressure, though it is clear from the beginning that there won't be a happy end.
The plot is as simple as any fairy tail. A guy (American) and a girl (French) meet in Vienna and spend a day together walking and talking. That's basically it.
Mind you, they do not talk heavy philosophical discussions, just what two young intelligent, sensitive people would be talking on a date - about life, about sex, about not too remote childhood. I tried to understand what's so special in their dialogues, watched them several times and I failed. Obviously they do not talk banalities, but nothing profound either. Altogether it gives this sweet feeling of two soul mates randomly met in most improbable situation and click together. Once when I was perhaps 20 years old on subway I met a girl. In span of couple of minutes between stations I fell in love with her (we did not say a word and mostly tried not to stare at each other). The dominant feeling was that I knew that this was the moment and we will never meet again. Something similar was in the first movie. Everybody (them included) knew that that's it - there won't be any continuation, despite their promises to meet in 6 months. It was like a sweet dream of impossible.
The only sensible explanation of the magic of that movie was undeniable chemistry between Hawke and Delpy. You can write wonderful script, actors can professionally repeat dialogues and no magic happens. The chemistry made that movie. My son when he traveled Europe, for purpose went to Vienna - no, he did not meet anybody there, but I bet that was his dream.
That was a movie by definition non-sequel-able. Indie movies do not generate money and hopes for bigger money for a sequel and the story was told top the logical end. Any their future meeting looked false and artificial. But 9 years after they (director Linklater, Hawke and Delpy) did it. What's amazing that sequel, which cannot be watched without prequel, is even better.
While 'Before sunrise' was a sweet dream of youth, 'Before sunset' is more mature and deeper. It seems that they (Hawke and Delpy) brought their own life experience there and perhaps they are not just actors, but intelligent people who happen to be actors. That night in Vienna changed their lives. Hawke said, he wrote the book about their first meeting with a hope to find her, and it is very believable. That meeting set so tall order for both of them, that any attempts to live their lives as it supposed to be, failed. Very Chekhovian turn. Chekhov has a short story 'About love'. In it a man spent all his love near a woman who he loved and never had guts to tell her. In the end when she was leaving forever, he told her and it appeared that that all that years she was waiting for him. The story ends with the line "there never ever be any after". (It is very hard to translate to English 3 negations - nikogda nichego ne byvayet potom).
Now 9 years after they are not baggage free youngsters. He is married with a kid and generally is a decent guy. In the end he faces a dilemma - to be responsible to his family or to be responsible to himself. Tough. All answers are morally flawed. The last shot seems to indicate he stays in Paris, but I am pretty sure he will catch the next flight.
This time the ending hints on 3rd movie in working and it would be too bad if 'Before sunset' would be a moderate hit and forces them to do the sequel fast. Me personally would not mind to wait another 10 years. The idea must be conceived, and appear in its own time. But it would be awfully interesting how their lives could be affected by this seemingly inconsequential meeting.
Just for the sake of dreaming and for the sake of watching and envying their chemistry. The last scene when she dances – is enough for any man to forget all responsibility and duties and stay with her forever.
***
posted by Serge at 4:13 pm
