Lonewolf, Upstairs.
Good one, no?
-------------------------
I keep saying "Mannneyh Mannneyh Manneyh Mannneyh Manneyh" the way Ajit says it in Mankatha and its a strange adrenaline rush. I end up laughing that evil laugh and feeling like I own the world.
Surely, those guys were onto something big. Go ahead, try it out.
Say it the way he says it and I dare you to tell me that you don't feel the rush too.
---------------------------
I just get this strange feeling that very soon I will witness death around me.
I wish I could express this sensation in words. I can actually feel the cold fingers of death coiling around her neck slowly... squeezing out the life juices drop by drop. I can see her struggle, put up a fight.
I can smell the fear the escapes from her mouth whenever she gasps for air.
I can see the longing in her eyes, the lust for another day, an extra hour, a few stolen minutes.
And I can understand her need to speak, to interfere with life that seems to be happening without her contribution. She wants to be heard, she wants to speak as much as she can before it is too late but nobody listens to her. She is made to shut up, by her son, by her husband and sometimes by her conscience.
She is dying, and she knows it. She is putting up a good fight. She is a survivor. She always was.
I can't look at her.
I avert my gaze quickly if our eyes meet perchance.
I don't have the decency to smile at her or acknowledge her presence.
I don't have the courage to walk up to her, go close for she can't hear very well, and say sorry.
I know it would make her happy if I spoke to her. I know she would find peace if I did.
I don't know why I wont.
---------------------------------
I need to learn grammar of
English.
Cinema.
Life.
----------------------------------
Are mothers really that attached to their sons?
Good one, no?
-------------------------
I keep saying "Mannneyh Mannneyh Manneyh Mannneyh Manneyh" the way Ajit says it in Mankatha and its a strange adrenaline rush. I end up laughing that evil laugh and feeling like I own the world.
Surely, those guys were onto something big. Go ahead, try it out.
Say it the way he says it and I dare you to tell me that you don't feel the rush too.
---------------------------
I just get this strange feeling that very soon I will witness death around me.
I wish I could express this sensation in words. I can actually feel the cold fingers of death coiling around her neck slowly... squeezing out the life juices drop by drop. I can see her struggle, put up a fight.
I can smell the fear the escapes from her mouth whenever she gasps for air.
I can see the longing in her eyes, the lust for another day, an extra hour, a few stolen minutes.
And I can understand her need to speak, to interfere with life that seems to be happening without her contribution. She wants to be heard, she wants to speak as much as she can before it is too late but nobody listens to her. She is made to shut up, by her son, by her husband and sometimes by her conscience.
She is dying, and she knows it. She is putting up a good fight. She is a survivor. She always was.
I can't look at her.
I avert my gaze quickly if our eyes meet perchance.
I don't have the decency to smile at her or acknowledge her presence.
I don't have the courage to walk up to her, go close for she can't hear very well, and say sorry.
I know it would make her happy if I spoke to her. I know she would find peace if I did.
I don't know why I wont.
---------------------------------
I need to learn grammar of
English.
Cinema.
Life.
----------------------------------
Are mothers really that attached to their sons?
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