Interludes

I wept when reading Father Goriot
and The Idiot, but I was fifteen—
a fair excuse, I guess—
whereas now I simply try to believe
in my every word that I still remember,
as the days insist on living
without revealing which gullible soul is destined to pay
for accepting ‘visiting hours’—
or, as I call it, the life of a film-trailer connoisseur
who grasped a simple truth about colours:
they do not exist
(why wouldn’t I trust Keller and Lusseyran on the matter then?),
so I could spend my final day complaining
that, in recycling culture, even planting cabbages
has become yet another lifestyle hashtag
splashed on a t-shirt.


More words to ponder at maciejmodzelewski.com

Journal (Something more to come)

I like watching trailers for the films I have already seen. They are like old photographs in a family album—photographs of places I once visited but neglected to return to, sounds still familiar yet distant, feelings kept in the shadows since ever. I like watching trailers because they allow me to fill in the rest of the story in my own tone, especially when the film wasn’t all that good in the first place and I only remember it for the perfect moments, like diamonds in the ashes. I like watching trailers for films I don’t know because they are a promise of something more to come—unlike every day of my life.