rechallenged the addiction

I missed the chicken soup.

Out of the blue, I got these!

Measles? Allergies?

Wouldn’t it be nice to be home right now, with family looking after me; does the worrying. And I can just focus on being ill and feeble.

Miles out here, I can’t afford to do that. I have to take care of myself. Independent, right? I’ve got to earn that, like Kafka did.

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‘… 20 years is a long time to spend with the same person’

‘If only it is the same person’

Down the road, we wish things would be like before, unchanged. How a smile could melt the heart. How a kiss could push the adrenalin. How a touch could weave through tension. Those were the days, when two moved as one.

Many relationships fall apart because of change. A change so immerse that the other half could not keep up. It drags the differences wider, leaving time to take on the pieces.

Luna de Avellaneda - a witty and deeply emotional romantic comedy from the award winning Argentine director Juan José Campanella. The story follows a group of Argentine’s neighborhood who keep the spirit of their social club alive against the declining economics. It is a film about human solidarity through an array of identifiable characters and realistic family values.

Often I would prefer picking an international screening, partly for the no ticketing queue and the exceptional screenplay. Not to mention having the theatre to myself or meeting someone interestingly single.

‘Addictive’ was the exact word used by Indepedent Literary Review to describe the latest fix to this remarkable fictional novel.

An exploitation of two characters, moving about, running their lives individually, yet crossing each other path with every turn of the chapter; unbelievably hypnotic.

Kafka on the Shore - Haruki Murakami

Picking up his rucksack, Kafka Tamura took the flea from home and ventured into the unseen edge of Japan. At young age of 15, he has nonetheless filled in physically and developed arousal to psycho-analytical perspective. Running with a baggage of his father’s dark prophesy, to a seemingly calm setting, and unwinding the normality.

Believing he has little to nothing to offer to anyone, Nakata, an old man, took on a surprise role in helping a young man seeing the world. After an unusual event during his childhood, he has lost the ability to read and write. But gained an extraordinary gift.

Thus far the most bizarre anecdote I’ve ever read. A fast-food pimp, talking cats, insane liquor label, downpour of fish and leeches, mass shifting stone, and un-aged WWII soldiers, and more of the unearthly happenings. It touched on the unexplainable criteria of time and static, sexuality and gender, misfortune and perception, love and hatred, incest and profusion, re-born and death.

It tackled the connotation of being alive, living, and live; something we brush off easily in the present of unmistakable, materialistic void. The text would rock your boat and have you realized that you have yet to sail off to the unpredictable opening, instead tied tightly on the deck. Waking up morning after morning, finding yourself breathing, is not living. Living is far more rooted than just being alive.

Leaving the paradox of Murakami with the supporting paragraph of a philosophical crow:

You’re afraid of imagination. And even more afraid of dreams. Afraid of the responsibility that begins in dreams. But you have to sleep, and dreams are a part of sleep. When you’re awake you can suppress imagination. But you can’t suppress dreams.

And imagination is what the author asks of you.