Here and there, I think that my life would be enough for a movie. Here and there?! Sometimes?! Gosh, what am I saying? I always think that.
However, in the following moment, I grasp reality: three hours would be even less than insignificant, and it wouldn’t even tell a tiny fraction of the story.
No, my life would truly be enough for an entire collection of books, a saga, an actual odyssey of adventures and misadventures transposed from paper to screen film. And it would be broadcast all over the world, so that everyone could enunciate which and how many features of my being, my existence, they’d share.
But it could be better than all of that – since not every movie lasts longer in our memory than the time it takes to reach the bottom of one or two sweet popcorn buckets, or to hear the noise, the attrition between the straw and the ice cubes.
Better and more efficient than being on red carpet once and getting the Oscar for best dramatic movie would be a prime time series. [Yeah, blame me for thinking big!]
Yes, one of those which have countless seasons, which last episodes always end with an intriguing to be continued…
One of those that almost leads the audience to sympathize with the story, because it seems so real and it could happen to anyone [And they wouldn’t know that the story was real and that, in the end of the credits, an any resemblance to real life is not a mere coincidence would be included]
One of those series that in the exact moment that everything seems to be all right, there’s a problem coming, and this scenery would happen over and over again, getting to upset the most insensible ones who, doubtless, would leave the couch with a rude it’s always the same thing! They only do this to increase their ratings! [Surely they wouldn’t know that lives which, sometimes, look like mexican soap operas actually exist and it’s not all the time they’re solved with a simple channel switch.
It would be great, wouldn’t it?! Oh boy, it would! We all wish we could just switch the program, switch the channel, or even throw the television throughout the window and invest our time in something more useful, profitable and interesting.
They’ll be an amount of poor viewers, those who’d follow the story, my story. At a certain point, they’ll end up feeling just like me. Together, we’d bring companies like Kleenex to the undeniable success; laugh – perhaps – from nothing at all; appreciate the spring breeze; relish a nice hot chocolate; and tenderly smile hearing ballads – but only the sweet ballads – from Norah Jones.
[Yes, I truly wrote this last sentence hearing Those Sweet Words, one of her sweetest songs, and I just couldn’t avoid smiling]