Scribblings with Green Chalk

My mild obsession with fruits I was always too slow and clumsy to pick brings me to interesting places. Like this town. Along winding roads of association and curiosity. Which, as they tell us, kills cats notoriously.

Something as banal as a night at the movies would seem almost not worth mentioning. Almost. Maybe I liked My Blueberry Nights for wrong reasons. Because of restlessness, blueberries, silly compassion for detail, that Cat Power song, Matejko colors (will you know what I mean when I call them that?). Or something else.

Because the movie has quite a bit of walking around in the night? And that reminds me of something… Encounters and disconnections. And letting go when you know you have to let go. Or a simple love story, if you want. But why cut it down to that?

Or it was being there with someone kind enough to accompany me? (I’m never up to going alone.) Someone kind enough to face German dubbing, where the voices are always wrong and English words are raisins in the pie but never enough to hold on. I thought the woman in front of us would eat me alive because I was trying to interpret the dialog for Kim, so that she wouldn’t lose too much. I’d never have guessed it would work better than the experiment I participated in during my second or third year at university. They said they were trying to establish whether interpreting between two foreign languages works through the filter of the native language. I’m not sure about the findings but it sure went slowly. Unlike this time. Necessity is the mother of all sorts of things. And I had ice cream and the movie theater was so small and the night when we went outside felt so cold…