6 Jan 2008

THE HOURS S

Again. Great movie. Not a must see because you will not really understand it or connect unless you are in some sort of similar pain or situation. And it is hard to be there because it is simply a squeezing experience that get the worst and then the best out of you. Wickedly tempt you to go to the extreme peak of your madness, I did already. Grab you the extreme and allow you to enter places where you never had any idea it ever exists, that i did too.

Well, it does exist.

And from there you go down hill. And when I am going down hill, I tend to throw all that is irrelevant or burdening me while going up. It should be the opposite. But with me, it is the opposite opposite. As if I gain a lot of momentum and stamina from carrying all the weight in addition to the gravity and the uphill challenge. I suffer and suffer but simply ask for more because I am stronger than strength, and more solid than steel and more stubborn than a jew priest. Charged and charged. And again more charged. So full. Refuse to have one drop of the ocean water misses me. All in but never too unconscious to sink.

And then it's the release.

It is up to you and to me and to even the mountain to imagine what the release will be. And going downhill. You throw and throw and become as light and as clean and as flying like a tender fierceful and angry red indian arrow targeted towards a bloody cruel white who burnt its village, rapped its wives, and killed its dear water buffalo. Or as cultured and not barbaric of an expression: a pumping hot knife in a butter. You just slaughter. The butter what else. And in that sliding and slicing and travelling and traversing through the thin air, you whistle the sound of the wind, that you become the free being you once was.

And you once again--but not forever--beware, make a home run.

'How can you regret if you had no choice?' And I chose to have no choice back then. Now I chose to choose. Between life and more life. I chose just life.

A choice to not have more.

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