Fearful Fridays

I awoke with The Marriage of Fígaro in my head, feeling drugged and sluggish, dreaming that I was writing the composition myself, and imagining the spectacular possibilities in the multiplicity of endings that the staff offers. Of course, I can't really write music, and my reading skills are embarassingly lacking, much like my French speaking and writing... I know I am so far from perfect, from even acceptable... and I would like to just curl up in a ball somewhere where no one would find me, but for the fact that I am now in panic mode over the paper that I have to present at a conference in two weeks and must be re-written.

I watched La mala educación the other night and while I enjoyed it, and its plot intricacies were perhaps cleaner than in other films, I just don't think that this is his best. Gael was a high point, as high femme, singing "quizás, quizás, quizás" but I didn't feel the visceral connection to the characters that I have in other films, and while the idea of characters transforming before our eyes (much like our opinion of a lover does as we discover their dirty little secrets) was well done, I felt that the ending just fell flat.

Now last night I went to see Born Into Brothels, and Laura was right, it was an amazing film. It was a documentary about the life for children in Calcutta's red light district, but far from being preachy or overly hopeful it was simply honest. There was a line by one of the little boys who through his photographic expression (and blood sweat and tears of the woman "Zana Auntie" who taught them to use the cameras and made the documentary) was able to travel to an international photography symposium for children in Amsterdam, he commented something to the effect of "It is painful to look at, but we must, because it is truth." The wisest of our world are always the children.