“If you do not write or film”,
the director wonders,
”am I alive?”
–
“What limbo am I in
when the shooting stops?
When my camera no longer
holds the beautiful prism.”
–
His films stay the same,
only he changes,
exchanging the silver screen
for glistening tin foil
heated under with a match.
–
When his pain matches
the others, he prays.
When greater, he’s an atheist.
–
The films are his only company.
He lives with them and for them,
remembering the cinema of his youth
filled with the scents of piss
and jasmine and summer breezes;
–
remembering the cave
where he learned
to read the light,
understand its alphabet,
and eventually, vocabulary
with each discovered ray.
–
He smiles as the music track
of little angels being taught
by the local parish priest
to match his voice note
by note flickers in.
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