“Why are you so determined to keep me alive?” The man, whose face was completely mangled by severe burns, asked feebly.
“Because I’m a nurse.” Juliet replied, easy and succinct.
Nonetheless, an opening sequence done in good taste.
“About you, Miss Lynd? Well, your beauty’s a problem. You worry you won’t be taken seriously.”
“Which one can say of any attractive woman with half a brain.” She abruptly responds, factually.
“True. But this one overcompensates by wearing slightly masculine clothing. Being more aggressive than her female colleagues. Which gives her a somewhat *prickly* demeanor, and ironically enough, makes it less likely for her to be accepted and promoted by her male superiors, who mistake her insecurities for arrogance. Now, I’d have normally gone with ‘only child,’ but by the way you ignored the quip about your parents… I’m going to have to go with ‘orphan.'”
[she grins, her chin slightly raised, and fixed her gaze upon him]:
“All right… by the cut of your suit, you went to Oxford or wherever. Naturally you think human beings dress like that. But you wear it with such disdain, my guess is you didn’t come from money, and your school friends never let you forget it. Which means that you were at that school by the grace of someone else’s charity: hence that chip on your shoulder. And since your first thought about me ran to “orphan,” that’s what I’d say you are.”
[he smiles, silent]
She continues, “Oh, you are? I like this poker thing. And that makes perfect sense! Since MI6 looks for maladjusted young men, who give little thought to sacrificing others in order to protect queen and country. You know… former SAS types with easy smiles and expensive watches.”
[he glances at his wrist]
He was not the real husband, nor father—who had disappeared for over a year, presumably lost in the woods. The man here was simply a passer-by (somewhat) who managed to fix the generator. Waking, the woman had mistaken him for her long-absent spouse.
I try to refrain from writing in first person, for doing so, personally, tends to alter the weight of words—as in, the text begins to sound verbal, conversational. What is the point of writing when one writes as he speaks?
Then again, there is not too much purpose in furnishing up an idea so superfluously so as to fall into the trap of ostentation. Honestly, as a human being (and therefore in possession of inescapable, innate egotism) I simply find it easier to get my thoughts across in first person.
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Lately, between daily obligations, I have been settling for less and posting more pictures than this blog deserves; I am no photographer; my pictures are shallow. Critically, they would only be worthy of publishing unless I devote equivalent amounts of effort to their creation as I do to my writings.
Confession # One: my photos frustrate me—I only post them (for the most part) to perpetuate and satisfy the much unneeded urge for instant gratification: something the modern society has been very effective in opening people’s appetite for.
Will we, in time, learn to submit to the notion that significant progress, change, and accreditation has to occur gradually, through processes? As true affection require spans of time to solidify?
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Confession # Two: A personal favorite:
Originally heard in the closing credits of The Girl With The Dragon Tattoo (2011 film adaption).
(you can sod it and go elsewhere if you cannot handle any spoiler that follows: watch the movie)—
Trent Reznor and Atticus Ross couldn’t have picked a more adequate song to wrap up the story, in which the protagonist Lisbeth, who’s spent her entire life not trusting anyone, bearing nothing but scar tissues, finally crossed path with someone whom she deemed righteous and harmless enough to confide in—only to eventually discover that, despite everything she did, from saving his life to rescuing his career, he was incapable of returning any sense of mutual affection. The movie ends with Lisbeth driving off into the darkness, seemingly gone forever, void of any elements of the sensational “happily ever after.”
A good, powerful ending; one that does not relieve but urges the audience to tap into their own feelings and think on behalf of the character, to see and relate. The ending was essentially, the movie itself.
As the song played, one could imagine Lisbeth in her mind, beckoning for answers to questions she has both for him (Mikael) and herself: is your love strong enough? Are you worth living and dying for?
More in context, was Mikael the end to Lisbeth’s suffering? Could she, through a trust in him, be capable of happiness for the first time in her life? At that point, anyone having been attentive would be aware that Lisbeth knew the obvious answer: having gone through her life, as difficult as it was, in which everything seemed to betray her, how could she be so foolish to have trusted anyone in the first place?
As such, the placement of this song more deeply acts as a rhetorical outcry to the viewers—I felt the lyrics interrogating the more elusive aspects of myself, almost doubting the integrity of the presumably established strengths of my own emotional boundaries—just how far will I truly go and how much I would sacrifice for someone to whom I hold dear? Do I have what it takes to care for anyone more so than I do for myself? I once thought I did, but this song made me think twice: was it self-deceit in claiming myself able?
But personal connotations go beyond the intended picture: I found the song reaching into every aspect of my life, down to my willingness to live another dawn. Somehow, every time I hear it, I am further reminded that I can do much more, as life and everything in it deserves that much more sincerity and effort from me.
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Confession # Three:
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Particular Moments 