Europa is probably the second-best von Trier movie I’ve seen. The opening was a little haunting because it reminded me of last night’s dream in which I saw two hung people dangling from a tree. And strangely, I was on a train myself when I saw them.
As long as precognition comes true via film rather than real life, it’s ok.
Young Kessler is the exact image of how I have imagined Stuart McCormick. He needs a little bit more determination, and he would be perfect. Who would have guessed that the movie’s already twenty years old? Watching how the character attempts to show kindness, I had to giggle all the way through. The juxtaposition of colour and black & white was fascinating and striking. There was a sudden moment of revelation and truth. And then, love blindfolds you as per usual.
While already bordering on madness, you realise that your kindness does not, in any way, change anything. People will always screw you over, no matter if they love you. Lies and betrayals remain lies and betrayals.
It all ends in agony.
Today the fog covered up the city and gave us a Dickensian atmosphere. It was spooky but arousing…
When running this morning, my face and hair caught a lot of water – so cold, but refreshing.
I slept in today and didn’t wake up until half-past seven. Some say I should go back to sleep, but I can’t. There’s too much to do.
Tomorrow I have to go back to work again with a smile on my face.
I’ve been looking at my shoes lately. My slippers are falling apart. My chucks have holes, and so do my Fila trainers, which I’ve had since Grade 7. Despite having a professional job, I look like a school kid on the outside. It’s not attractive.
Have you ever been ID’d when buying a kitchen knife? I mean, can’t they see the exhaustion in my eyes, the lines running down from my nasal wings?
I can’t do my hair nicely either, and besides, they need cutting.
However, I neither have the time nor the money to pamper myself these days. If I do, I’d rather dedicate the time to something productive, like work on the video blog and finish the final paragraph of the novel before the revision process.
Stuart McCormick. I always imagine him as a six-foot-tall guy with glasses. He is the only heart surgeon to prove that a heart can be fixed. I don’t trust anybody else.
