Birthday

November rains are back.  Everyday it is raining, raining, raining.  The skies are crying, weeping tears of bittersweet joy.  Massive clouds of whitish-grey matter cover the sky, creating a reflecting gloom that shrouds the earth.  Some twists must be taken, must they not?

Even the air is set with a dewy mist.  Winds blow, though not too hard.  The ground is moist; in some places it is damp and soggy from all the wetness.

The wisps of mists fill the air as it evaporates, awakening the senses – perhaps with a start – and the soul, with a renewed vigor, skips along the sidewalks in merriment.  For through pain, through jagged maps, through persistence it came through it all, and is still coming, on its way.  One day soon it shall be no less obvious, because its dear heart would thump with powerful beats along to the tune of the music whispering in its ears.

An afternoon in downtown KL. (Photo credits to Alicia Ai Leng)

An dizzling afternoon in downtown KL. (Photo credits to Alicia Ai Leng)

November is a beautiful month, the time of the year when Mars and Pluto cross paths and stars collide.  It is the time of the year of every other year when little baby scorpions emerge from their eggs and take their very first crawl.

Oh!  The clock is ticking, and I am running out of time.  I must put on my birthday suit.  For in a few minutes I am turning 24.  How old can I be?

I am in oh-so-deeeeep love with the month of November.

Red Scarlet

PS:  This post was written a few days prior to the author’s 24th birthday.

Dear Paul Walker

Dear Paul Walker, You have been an amazing team player and friend to all of us (Fast and Furious 7 actors).  It has been quite unfortunate to learn of your premature demise.  In memory of you, we would like to tribute this piece of art to you, where you shall return to your family who deeply love you.  Your children, who need you still.  There is none other like you, no better player in the game.  RIP, Paul Walker.                                                                                                                                Love,                                                                                                                               Red Scarlet

Author’s commentary: I had decided to creep up the long, dark hallways of the cinema next door to catch a good view of this movie which featured the last scenes of the late Paul Walker.  The urge to gain a further, deeper understanding of the film itself and the Sarawakian-born director James Wan piqued my interest.  I was not disappointed. It had a happy ending.  One that spoke of an eternal rest to such a handsome young actor (tell me, is he not?).  I still remember the last scene in the 2-hour plus long movie in which the computer-generated image of Walker was carrying his on-set child next to his on-set wife Mia by the beach, where everywhere was so serene, so beautiful, a perfectly sculpted mise en scene.  Vin Diesel was about to leave, when one of his comrades asked him: “Don’t you have to say goodbye?” To which Vin Diesel replied: “I don’t have to.”  And drove off in his electric blue automobile. Then, when he halted at the traffic lights in the mountains, Walker unexpectedly pulled up next to him in his white car (a peacefully grand mise en scene for this very last action) and said to Diesel through his open window: “I thought you don’t have to say goodbye?” The two men exchanged smiles, and with one last look, they drove separate ways in the mountains.  This signifies how the they were going their own ways, apart from each other. Death knocks on one’s door when one least expects.  How are we to know who goes next? You see, this is what I call art.  Film art.  The mise en scene and set-ups and geographical locations are very meaningful to the film, and so is the choice of words as it has to go in accordance to the theme.  And the theme of this film?  Togetherness, no matter what happens.  Family. I should not leave out the director, somehow.  Kudos to James Wan.  He has been able to put together an incredibly beautiful piece of art with such delicacy. P.S.:  I am extremely touched, but no, no crying, though.