there's always something in films that leaves me with a sad, tearing heart at the end of it all. And it doesn't help that i really like mind-bendy twisty sad fantastic-realistic unbearably poignant films. The feeling just lingers for a long time after the film ends, this feeling of having participated so fully in a world that terminates in just a brief 2 hours, the feeling of loss and a spirit that wants to cry out; not just cry, but cry out, wail, mourn, yell, after which it will come to an uncanny sense of stillness and be left behind, somewhat.
and times like these itch for something familiar, intimate, close, warm, foetal, arms, contact, cheek to cheek, a peck on the forehead, home, just home. you can wander about in the fields far away for all you like when, at the end of the day, you realise that there's nothing truly like home...
miss it, miss it all, miss you, miss you all
postscript: Oxford rejected me - was slightly disheartened 'cuz it was a deflation of self-pride, but quickly I realised I didn't intend to go there anyway, and that my worth resides in God's riches, not my performance. Thanks to Lin for reminding me today that my Father is very, very rich.
