Ephemereal

I have been watching many films lately, but the two to have left a strong impression on me were: All about Lily Chou-Chou and Attack the Gas Station!

These two couldn’t be better opposites: the first one is a devastating tale of teen-hood angst told by a young Japanese boy who find solace in the world of an etherial pop singer called Lily as his real life becomes more and more unbearable and painful, and the second one is anarchic comedy set in Seoul about four disaffected young blokes who rob a gas station to find out that there’s no cash and take over the place and lock up the boss and his employees. But as the evening progresses, more and more customers gather at the place: gangs, policemen, customers in a riotous finale. I hadn’t had powerful cinema moments such as these in a long time. It’s good to see the freshness and vitality of Asian cinema.

A rose has it given itself to me. I had seen it budding on the branch a week ago – the second in the season, so it was a celebration when this flower started blooming.

Nicolas had told me to take weekly baths with rose petals. The energy of the rose is a good one for me at the moment, as I’m affirming my new self. So when I saw the blooming rose on the balcony the other morning, my heart ached at the thought that I’d have to cut it and use it for the bath. It’s as if the rose heard me and accepted the sacrifice. I thought of this tale by Oscar Wilde where and nightingale sacrifices itself for love by letting the rose pierce its heart so it could give its most beautiful song. This time it was the rose.

I suppose not many people would give so much thought about it. A rose is just a rose. Ha.

But when they don’t bloom that often, each one of them become like a gem, an ephemeral gem.