The lights fell around us until we were encased in a gentle darkness.
I could feel the stream of fibrous light from the film projector moving across the screen like wandering water intertwined with sparkling sunlight. It moved like a dance across the smooth fabric. It dazzled my senses completely.
The dark room smelled faintly of buttered popcorn and cold water on my tongue. Hushed voices. Soft whisperings around filled my ears with tension. I could sense a gravity of Kenz, all moving, silent and irreproachable; a sleeping beast, I thought it. Whatever it was, it seemed meekly confused, yet undeniably present.
The French film flitted across our faces beautifully, but a darkness, heavy and delicate settled in my heart in anxious hunger to devour it. Or, at least, be free of it.
Kenzie was in pain. I could feel that much. I knew her well enough to care, but I guess not well enough to take her hand and squeeze it gently, telling her everything would be okay, as I knew it would be, with perhaps, some time. But I didn't do that.
I should've.
I don't know what's wrong with me sometimes.
The words "le vent nous portera" are sewn along the bottom of the screen and I wonder what they mean, as with many things.
The music plays softly, lullabies of foreign words and exquisite imagery. I can't help but give into myself, being pulled by the tender fingers of its melody, lost in a wasteland of beautiful eminence.
The film ends and all the while through it, I remember sipping cold water slowly from my cup and sensing Kenzie doing just the same, but very differently. Very differently indeed.
I guess what I'm really trying to say with all of this is, I don't want Sunday Morning to come and the thought that I sipped my water tentatively rather than squeezed her hand or shed a tear or something for her--creep into my heart and fester there all the Sundays after.
When a human being feels things deeply and lingers there, what are you to do?
I'll tell you.
Sip your water from cups, but grab the blasted hand and know that life is infinitely more than the cool water you drink that gives you life. This is life, here in a hand, a heart, a friend. Know this and you shall live.
Of this I know.
-k.p.
7:29pm 3/22/17
