Summer movies
I’ve just cut the inside of my nose accidentally, there is a small amount of blood. I have done this while the weather has oscillated between an especially wet flaccid rain and the kind of Sun that reminds you to breathe. There’s a genre of loosely held films which I reserve for pink Summer evenings, All About Lily Chou-Chou, A Brighter Summer’s Day, Celine and Julie Go Boating. I have not seen nor do I know what Talladega Nights is about but I imagine it is similar. When the Sun haunts through my window with this character I remember pastel white walls with those painted over plaster rips that look like alien borders, I taste white wine, perhaps I am nude or just topless. I think too, there would be that blue cast of a projector’s glow. I do not see the screen or hear the film’s audio, just the sound of wind through satiated leaves and the laughs of a park, drifting, the wind’s suggestion of itself through a white lace curtain. It lasts forever. I have not been in this room I remember. I do not have the power of prophecy but I hope that this is one and that I will find this place, so bright and blue and pink and green.