Yorick

I can’t even begin to mention how many people are dying around me. Countless. According to Bill Bryson it was William Shakespeare who coined the very word countless. Probably because life was so short in Elizabethan times. Even Moebius managed to die last Saturday. As for me, I got text this morning, the phone was in the drawer, my first thought was oh no he/she is dead then. I opened the drawer and it was friend T., friend T. is death-related these days, so I went no no no in my head, and in the end it was about shopping. Relived. Mildly.

Yesterday March 11 I was watching NHK while pressing the laundry, and at some point I got the impression that the blossoming cherry trees were photoshopped on the otherwise dead Miyagi landscapes.

I am angry. That’s pretty normal.

So I thought it could be a good idea to watch Third Star, to indulge in my brand new obsession for Benedict Cumberbatch and because it’s about death (what isn’t these days). I watched it twice. It’s a poignant little movie, which somehow does not work. I’ve been thinking about it for a while now, and I’m starting to feel frustrated because I cannot grasp what’s wrong exactly, what’s missing, or what’s too much. Too episodic perhaps? Various reviews offer “predictable”, but I am not content with it. I am going to find where the problem lies, and word it.

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