A Good Movie

I am on the flight home to Singapore on an A380, and I just finished watching a movie “The Reader”. The credits are now rolling, and the accompanying music is beautiful; French horn, flute, piano, pizzicato viola. It is a good movie. Or perhaps I should watch it again before I conclude so.


A sobriety
But it is good enough to inspire me to write. It is good enough to make my lips tremble. It is good enough to engulf me with a sobriety a good movie, a good book does. I do not even understand all of the movie. But does it matter? It drenches me in a consciousness that allows me to notice every detail around me; my retina changing size as it oscillates between the glow of the screen and the darkness of the cabin, how the person next to me puts his cup into the cup-holder as he continues to read his book under his private light, how my fingernails hit the keyboard like a lady with long nails, how my lips feel as the tissue wipes away grains of salt after the crisps. I can feel the sobriety on the tips of my hairs.


The damp clarity
I do not know what this means, but this dampness of a heightened clarity of mind is so powerful it inspires both my mind and my fingers, allowing words to flow from both entities as if two jazz musicians improvising perfectly despite meeting for the first time.

The double bass and the piano continue to flow into my ears, into my words. I do not know what this all means, where all this is heading.


Uncle T