“I was just wondering about how people feel things, I switched on the telly and there he was, telling the universal truth.
I am obsessed with the film, with those silky lips, so kissable. Well, I am not obsessed with the film then, I am obsessed with the protagonist, ha, not such a surprise.
Sometimes I put all my effort forgeting the script. I don’t want to think about this someone who has written every word, every look, every movement…a touch, a sigh. Everything. I feel a kind of sorry for it, nothing real, nothing spontaneous. Uh.
Plenty of time wasted on the process. Amazing. Two fuking thousand minutes translated into one silly hour. Not enough for me.
Sometimes I feel I could lose my mind. How can a book, a film, or a stupid add on T.V. shock you to the critic point of leaving you touched forever?? How?!
No idea. I wish I could see the line between the imagination of a film, the non real thing of a film, and the harsh reality, the things that really happen.
I guess I have to keep on thinking. That’s all.”
The beginning of a story, Maialen Garbizu.
