A scene from Michealangelo Antonio's Zabrieski Point (1970)If there’s a dream, there’s a way.
If there’s shame, then I must be joking.
Naked under the sun, we bask in its glory,
Wishing for someone to tie us to the ground,
To feel overwhelmingly small.
If words and lives were the same,
Shining placards would still make sense.
Like when you confess, I understand.
You kill, I detest.
Safe in my bubble,
I sacrifice a tear,
For those who left for the distant shore.
Now I am stranded in my universe,
Feeling infinitesimally small.
I could just do away with this one movie. There was no need for me to think of it. But I was helpless and hellbent at the same time. It was not the "trippy" Pink Floyd soundtrack, or the student protests in an American college, not even the imaginary orgy of selves in the lazy succession of Antonioni's frames, nor the protagonist's last ride on the airplane that was painted to vilify the institution or her wish to destroy, nullify objectivity (see the pic), Zabrieski Point is a dream sequence that keeps playing in my head. Waking me up every night.I hope I see no more of it, now that I have finished this ritual of penning down my thoughts.
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