-Tonight, I watched City Lights. A love story. Chaplin. I thought about whether silent films make for a smarter audience, at least one that’s willing to put in a little work to get the whole cinematic experience. Everything is fed to us these days, spoon fed.
It was dark. Night. The lights were off and I found myself in that certain limbo, that state between reality and the antithesis to it. My eyes wore heavy. I watched Charlie’s tramp run from scene to scene and persist through the suffering he endured, all for a smile, her smile. It’s funny how much we’ll suspend our disbelief when we’re confronted with old films, at least I do, more than with contemporary films. I sit there and wonder about my city lights, about the lights of my own existence and what my contribution is. What can I show the world, that it hasn’t already seen, or heard for that matter?
I sit there conscious, that the powerful play goes on, and wonder what is my verse, as I wait for the light of day to rouse me for another day.
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