DIEGESIS: WONG KAR WAI
At the funeral of his birth the seamstresses sing matte muted adagio
of rouge and torn hems. Oleaginous in both mane and vow. Bronze
king of ennui. She drifts across oxidized hallways, her dress the slug
line. Blue filtered lights and non-filtered cigarettes imbibe them.
CUT TO: Closing credits. Exit. Pressed
suit, nail file play
sentinel for preening enigma.
One mistakes soliloquy for an affair. The other lives as an atoll, divot
headed and bleak lacquered. Boast throated, he follows her like
a tracking shot that took the crew three weeks to stage. With days
drenched in despondent night, they mutiny through stasis, resist
CUT TO: Again, that infernal clock.
Train car hemorrhaging, roof
top scaled. An ellipsis.
the throttling of the hours toward shopping carts glutted with ailment.
These railways run parallel but incongruent; one stretches toward
longing, the other hunts for omission. They sleep in the wind of radio
static. She sways for the unthreaded fish hook. He is a desert. His gaze
CUT TO: Suitcase, flower print dress.
Unrequited knock at brass
gates. Clock, grief stricken.
dutch tilted and vacant in accord with the inebriated street. The coke
bottles, the bedroom slippers under vanity in soft focus, all browbeaten
and stalked by the blunted edge of minutes like a dipsomaniacal
gumshoe. Triangulated cravings asphyxiate them. Each tantalizes
CUT TO: Pearl earring gifted to
the second thief once
reclaimed from the first.
the other through taciturn tides of withholding. Hell bent on boring
the sea. But this mise-en-scene does not belong to them. This
is the viewer’s malebolge, a whorl of truancy spliced from B-Rolls
of rambunctious prodigals who refuse to catch what they chase.
CUT TO: Clock. Stairwell in need
of serenading. Threat posing
as flirtation. Opening credits.