The
sky was beautiful when I stepped out of the house this morning. It was
a lovely shade of gray so uniform in its grayness that it was hard to tell
where one cloud ended and another began. It was as if the world was under
a translucent bowl of gray porcelain, as if an endless cloud that stretched
from horizon to horizon blanketed the earth. It made me happy.
Last night I was watching La Jetee, a hypnotic film (or photo novel? slide show?) about time and the nature of memory and desire, and I fell asleep almost as soon as the end credits started rolling. The same thing happened the night previous with Baxter, another gem from the French. A cursory inspection of the box at the store gave me the erroneous impression that it was an out-and-out comedy when in fact it was quite not. I like unexpected surprises though. I don't care much for voice-overs in general except in foreign films. They're an exception because the words, strange and meaningless to me, become an exotic score of sorts instead of a distraction, if that makes any sense. Maybe that's what lulled into near-sleep. Or maybe it was just the hypnotic sing-song of the French tongue. Or maybe I was just really tired. I'm writing this at work and there are one hundred eighty-eight minutes left to kill. I
wish I was outside right now. I hope the clouds are still there when I'm
done.
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