🎦 004

(24/07/25, 13:36 WIB)

A couple of days ago I watched Fe (1994) as I tuck myself in bed, hoping to gain some comfort from the movie to help me sleep. I got really anxious and slept at 2AM.

No hate to the movie at all. It revolves around an old man living in a gloomy, rusty, dusty industrial area, where he met a young girl and her mother. The area sucked the life out of him. He’s a painter and experienced problems creating—he kept waiting for the right time. The young girl wondered why. The older girl (me) also wondered why.

A movie about lacking inspiration inspired me. It felt like a watercolor painting from start to finish. I started wondering, too. I wondered why I’ve been having trouble letting myself flow. I wondered why I haven’t picked up a brush in years—why I haven’t been active for myself. I am for others but never for me.

I already knew the answer and yet I still wondered, and yet I couldn’t stop and eventually the inside of my head turned into a crime board. I thought about an existing problem to the point of creating a new one. Hey… I actually created something…

The gloomy skies felt like layers of watercolor. I thought about painting some scenes and maybe I will… someday… I have everything ready except faith.

— S. N.