Dialogue

Nobody writes scenario for life; by reason of all long afternoons of vanity, all elastic yawns of ennui, all infirm steps of quandary, and all shaking legs of prospect's anxiety and all numb hands which are beneath the chins. Life is a noble documentary; nobler than those documentaries which are tolerable by the divine blessings, named cinema and music and editing. However, in vacant moments of life, we can do something like listen to music and talk with somebody, but they are not included; we just improvise!


Sometimes you can smell the scent of the cinema in the air. Sometimes special effects mutate to some inescapable vistas; like when an airplane strike to a skyscraper just on front of your eyes, like when there is a eclipse in above of your head, like when the sky paint itself at twilights with orange clouds just like a watercolor tableau, like the very night that Real Madrid had a match with Barcelona. But still they are not included!


Sometimes you can smell the scent of the directing. Sometimes the details of our life's frames are so familiar to us that we are expecting to hear a "CUT"! Like a special book that you were looking for it for ages and suddenly it winks at you among the ordinary stuffs of an ordinary peddler, like when you are disappointed and somebody touch your shoulder with an extra ticket in her hand, like when somebody stole your briefcase with all important document on it, like when you feel a profound desolation in yourself and out of the blue, the taxi's radio or the café's player, play your favorite song.


You feel it; you feel that your face's skin becomes warm because of the projectors. You feel that this scene belongs to you…

But you don't know the dialogues!