Dear David Frankel’s “Collateral Beauty”

Collateral Beauty 2 

“We’re here to connect. Love, time, death. Now these three things connect every single human being on earth. We long for love, we wish we had more time, and we fear death…”

Collateral Beauty“,

As a movie, you touched me long before I even watched you, and not because you follow the deep personal tragedy of a grieving man… no, no, no. You primarily made me sad, because I know that deep in my heart, you were a movie I was supposed to create…

As a writer and aspiring Director, I’ve spent years coming up with different parts of a grand puzzle, and with every new addition, the direction becomes clearer and clearer. With that, there are certain themes that have landed on me. Which brings us back to you as a film…

Will Smith – who so brilliantly portrays the grieving man in question – takes pen to paper and writes 3 letters: to Love, to Time, and to Death.

Love.
Time.
Death.

This alone was enough of blow me sideways, because the concept is familiar to me.

I’m an avid letter writer, and these 3 abstracts are already so well acquainted with me, as I’ve written plenty to them…

Love knows just how devoted I’ve been to finding her; my life is a throne beneath her feet. I’m just awaiting her arrival. Patiently waiting, always.

Time knows of my deep, deep fascination with him. Time; the pulse of everything, the core of all that I do and pursue. It’s the thread that holds it all together, and simultaneously pulls it apart.

Death… well, I’m not brave enough to call upon the ears and eyes of Death to hear what I have to say… so my subject is slightly different here; I’ve substituted this with Infinity. Yet Infinity primarily questions mortality. Death marks the end and the beginning. It’s the finite and the infinite. It marches to the same beat. Infinitely. Continue reading “Dear David Frankel’s “Collateral Beauty””

Once Without a Time

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For someone who is so obsessed with time, I seem to forget that most people move on with it.

It is not an attribute of the common, to hang up a broken clock in the hall of their stagnant lives. That is a pattern of my own.

I’m typically atypical in my state of standstill. I’m inspired to aspire from the walls within.
The lure of the day marks just the coming of the night. The night beckons me to sleep, for the coming of a new day.

But others, they venture forward and seek to get lost, knowing that the discovery of life comes in the adventure of its course.

Their tales will be told as a time they were once upon, but mine will be told as being without, for I live in a place where the ticks do not applaud me, so I am not accepted as part of that story.

Once without a time” will be my only legacy. I’ll be lost outside of the ages.
Unaccounted for, for I didn’t count the score, counterbalancing the accounts of times galore.

Yes, it’s a strange thing to sit and write about time. For actually, it completely eludes me.

T
Diary of a Deluded Heart

Written: September 7th 2016
Published: January 31st 2017

{Written with Vallendri Arnout in mind}

Water|as|Love

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If Love is Water, then I am a desert, for it is something my lips have never tasted, a thirst that’s never been quenched, a sea I’ve never stepped into.

I’m often asked why I don’t take a plunge into the unknown and dive into the sea of love that awaits before me; the water of wanders, an ocean of life. And here’s why…. Continue reading “Water|as|Love”

Ephemeros

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Ephemerality (from Greek εφήμερος – ephemeros, literally “lasting only one day”) is the concept of things being transitory, existing only briefly.” 

Efímeres stigmí tis efforías…
Sweet ephemeral moment of euphoria… how I long to hold you for more than the fleeting moment that you are.

You raise me up to heaven and then leave me on the outskirts to stare. You show me the marvels of Atlantis, but pull me in with no pit stop for air. I’m taken through nirvana with no moments to spare; so quick you bright your flickering light. Continue reading “Ephemeros”

Lost Art

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There’s a part of me that fears death in the face of all of my unfinished business.

Life is so fleeting… our moments here are evanescent. I have so many visions in my mind; I don’t want them to be put to sleep before they’ve been realised… to have my ideas martyred at the expense of my idleness… to have them die before ever having lived. More specifically, as an avid writer, I don’t want all of these words to become a memoir of madness (for if madness isn’t the result of such obsessive, chronic chronicling which advances ahead with no purpose or use, then what is…?) Wasted words are one of life’s greatest shames, one I wish to play no part in (but lead the march nonetheless in all of my Words Unspoken and Dear Nobody’s.) Continue reading “Lost Art”

Echo Through the Museum

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Walking through ancient history, reminding myself to live it before I become it…

One day we too will be another story in the grand tale of all tales, and our wonders, our hopes, our fears, our decisions and our actions, will be another shot of hindsight for another eager soul to walk through… C’est la vie… C’est magnifique.

Let’s make future history.

*Egyptian Exhibition; “Faith after the Pharaohs” | British Museum*

T
Diary of a Deluded Heart

Written: December 29th 2015
Published: July 20th 2016

Tick Tock Said The Clock

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Today I got lost in the clock room at the British Museum – I love this place, tracing back to when & how people first started measuring time. On the one hand, it makes me reconsider my own notions of time; how I spend it and how precious it is with each passing day. On the other hand, my mind races ahead to a place where everything is infinite and knows it’s not bound by the hour. The ultimate discrepancy: Time versus Infinity.

Reflection: The human appetite for time is endless; it’s the most precious commodity, but the sorrow of lost time becomes a permanent hole in the human heart.

Result: We’re consumed by the count – Dictated by the ticks, move with the tocks. Pause for the chimes, obsessed with the clocks

But there are consequences to counting the moments when you measure time with a clock. How very human of us to do so; to mark the minutes, but not use them wisely. To measure the days length instead of focusing on its miracle. I suppose that’s why I like my clocks broken… Continue reading “Tick Tock Said The Clock”