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Frida is a movie that opens a window to something greater than yourself. You can stand by the window and feel the breeze and light on your face. The rain can sting your skin with icy knives. You can slide your hand along the ledge reach outside to the world that is waiting for you. But when the movie ends, the window closes, and you're stuck with yourself again. Trapped in your flesh.
Frida showed you the lives of two artists. Both filled with visions and talents. Both flawed and very, very human. Their lives held dazzling flashes of beauty, but for every drink of beauty there was a deep draught of pain. Diego couldn’t remain faithful to save his life, and still she loved him. Frida's life was filled with physical pain and emotional wounds. Yet she filled her life with the search for passion and beauty and truth.
I'd like to think that any of us could live our lives that way. I see people I know living that kind of life, and what it can cost them. And I wonder: can I live that way? Is it too late?
That's a rhetorical question: it's never too late. It's just a matter of beginning.
Frida showed you the lives of two artists. Both filled with visions and talents. Both flawed and very, very human. Their lives held dazzling flashes of beauty, but for every drink of beauty there was a deep draught of pain. Diego couldn’t remain faithful to save his life, and still she loved him. Frida's life was filled with physical pain and emotional wounds. Yet she filled her life with the search for passion and beauty and truth.
I'd like to think that any of us could live our lives that way. I see people I know living that kind of life, and what it can cost them. And I wonder: can I live that way? Is it too late?
That's a rhetorical question: it's never too late. It's just a matter of beginning.
no subject
Date: 2004-11-15 07:16 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2004-11-15 07:42 am (UTC)