I saw a Woody Allen film called 'Interiors' recently. His films have an altogether different charm about them when he isn't acting in it. This one was a story of 3 sisters, and precisely as simple as that. It got me thinking about life and death and how dependent we are one on another. It made the reality of dying seem closer. You are a perishable item. Just as I am. But how is it that a person can be filled with life one minute and is empty the other? Where does it all go? We delude ourselves with concepts of perfection and compatibility and love. How does it all matter at the end? We return to where we came from, though we only know that it is the ground and the dust and the water that we are, but what we tread on. You could walk straight into the ocean and let the darkest wave gulf you in its entirety. Would that death be the same as dying in your sleep or being shot in the head or being suffocated by a pillow? What does a heart attack feel like for someone who does not make it through as compared to a milder one where the victim pulls out and stays alive a few more years? Should we really be crying over the past and the dead or the future and the living?
I feel compelled to write these thoughts down. They seem very powerful to me.
Indeed.
ReplyDeleteSomeone should put this in a film.