It was all an oddity in one sense. Dialogues loud enough to blast your ear-drums, tissues stuffed in ears in a desperate attempt to muffle the sharpness of the sound… old men hobbling across the seats with walking sticks, air-conditioners going on and off every few minutes off their own accord, uncles and aunties with silver-gray hair leaning towards one another every now and then to exchange some comment…a short chuckle over some joke, perhaps…an intimate moment of privacy in that simple gesture made in the midst of, but untouched by, the huge world swallowing them up.

A movie from over 40 years ago. A story passed down through decades, and I still find it extremely absurd. Cinematography, direction, lighting and even acting still soaring high above contemporary cinema. And the music! Work of a master-class, undoubtedly…beautiful and spell-binding for the most.

Yet, my interest wavered ever so frequently. The day took its toll and I almost dozed off unconsciously several times.

The love shown may have meant to be magical but, strangely enough, it failed to touch me. The willing sacrifice of a life for a beloved somehow seemed unreal – more like martyrdom than real love. It wasn’t relatable, it didn’t strangle. Nor even captivate. I still wonder why.

My eyes closed for a brief respite and I expected to see the usual dark void behind the sheltered lids. Or, at most, I expected some random image to come forth into my mind. It didn’t. I was somewhat surprised, somewhat amused and somewhat lost. All I could perceive was that gray t-shirt… and those hands. The long fingers, so artistic and captivating – so beautiful that I knew I wanted to hold on to that hand and never let go. All I wanted was to clench that shirt, bury my head there and let go of all reality. Forget everything, even my own existence. Think of nothing, not even why I wanted that sanctuary. Stay there, with the person I was once at risk of falling in love with…stay there and never let go…never…never…

The moment seemed sacred in one sense, and scary in other…in parts, it was a revelation, in parts a mere absurdity. Yet the longing was there. The need did exist then.

Two days later, I have my memory of that image. It never existed, yet it was as real to reality as imagination could be. The image would pale in comparison to reality, I know, but reality can never occur.

I simply remember…and I smile.