My Friend Kills Time, a short film by Jakob Rørvik
21 May 2013
I think it’s okay to speak in codes. To speak of and write about things that I may or may not understand at the moment.
I think I might have been the same way, sometimes. (Maybe even all the time.)
I think we are writing letters to each other, but also to ourselves.
I find that this medium forces me to look at my words. More than usual. To look at this big white screen and just see what I type. To read them over and over. To see if they make sense (or wait for them to start having meaning?) When I write to you by mail, my hand moves over the paper and I feel connected. Using this technology makes me feel the same, but there’s something different, too.
I don’t think a lot of my life has changed lately. It feels more like I’m building a bridge, but I don’t know where the other end is.
Then there are days when I feel I’m suspended in the space I occupy.
My Friend Kills Time is a short film by Jakob Rørvik. A friend shared it with me last week and I’ve been taken with it ever since. You can read more about it here.
Lines that resonate with me:
All I really need to do is get started. Wake up. It’s very easy to fall back to sleep.
There are days when I fail, and then the next day I work harder.
There’s mornings and evenings, but everything else is just the same.
Do you recognise me? This guy who stopped being the person he used to be. Who moved away. Is it possible that, like you, I will see him from afar, unable to recognise him at all?
Photos of people who read: The Underground New York Public Library.
Faces of books. Faces of readers.
Says Derek Walcott, “The perpetual ideal is astonishment.”
Says Louise Bourgeois, “I had a flashback of something that never existed.”