I don’t like Sundays. I absolute love Saturdays.
Saturday, the city is alive, people are out and about, and the best part is I don’t have to work. I can be out there with them. Also, Monday does not come after Saturday (I hope this does not turn into a Rebecca Black song), so it is the only day of the week I can sleep in and go to bed knowing the next morning I can sleep in again.
Sunday comes then as a let down, especially in Winter when going out to nature feels like punishment. I know, I have to work on me appreciating all sides of nature.
So this last Sunday, I did something I have not done in ages. I went to the movies by myself. Martin and I did not have a good day and I craved some time alone. So I walked to the movie theater, walked up to the ticket guy and asked him what is the next movie playing. He said it’s “The Artist”. “One ticket please”, I said.
First I want to say that Jean Dujardin has one of the best smiles ever! Second, that movie was everything I needed on an otherwise bleak Sunday afternoon. I walked out almost skipping. The story came alive with music perfectly attuned to the story, amazing cinematography and such emotion that any dialogue would’ve ruined it. It would’ve taken from the beauty of everything else.
And that dog! And this from not-really-a-dog-person. Where did they ever find him?
Anyhow, the movie was a lesson to me in how much beauty and emotion are we capable of seeing and feeling without speaking one single word.
A lesson to sometime just shut up and take the world in. Not let the dialogues and chit chatter ruin an otherwise perfect picture. And by dialogues and chit chatter, I mean those that go on in our heads, that distract us from the moment we’re in and the feeling that come with it.