𝐎𝐜𝐭’ 3𝐫𝐝, 89’

There is often too much to say and not enough time. Cliché. a complete fiasco. Truthfully... Why say anything at all?

My mental imagination is where I'd prefer spend each day. I would much rather be at ease with the knowledge that I can somewhat influence the depths of my thoughts.

Time therefore expires. This will happen. There it is. It will tick more quickly. Let it be.

Where I wanna be. Where I oughta be. Where I will be. ♥️

in & above instagram

—𝑭𝒐𝒓 𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒓𝒚𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒈, 𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒆 𝒊𝒔 𝒂 𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒅. 𝑬𝒙𝒑𝒓𝒆𝒔𝒔𝒊𝒐𝒏𝒔 𝒇𝒐𝒓 𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒓𝒚 𝒔𝒆𝒏𝒔𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏, 𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒏 𝒔𝒘𝒆𝒆𝒕 𝒏𝒐𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔. 𝑩𝒆𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒆𝒙𝒑𝒓𝒆𝒔𝒔𝒊𝒗𝒆 𝒊𝒔 𝒏𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒓 𝒔𝒊𝒎𝒑𝒍𝒆, 𝒃𝒖𝒕 𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒆 𝒂𝒓𝒆 𝒕𝒊𝒎𝒆𝒔 𝒘𝒉𝒆𝒏 𝒂𝒏 𝒊𝒍𝒍𝒖𝒔𝒕𝒓𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏 𝒂𝒍𝒍𝒖𝒅𝒆𝒔 𝒂 𝒄𝒐𝒎𝒑𝒆𝒍𝒍𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒔𝒕𝒐𝒓𝒚. 𝑴𝒐𝒓𝒆 𝒎𝒖𝒔𝒊𝒄 𝒄𝒂𝒏 𝒃𝒆 𝒇𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒅 𝒊𝒏 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒔𝒐𝒍𝒊𝒕𝒂𝒓𝒚 𝒆𝒙𝒊𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒏𝒄𝒆 𝒐𝒇 𝒂 𝒔𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒍𝒆 𝒉𝒖𝒆, 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒘𝒉𝒆𝒏 𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝒂𝒓𝒕 𝒊𝒔 𝒅𝒊𝒔𝒕𝒊𝒏𝒄𝒕𝒊𝒗𝒆 𝒐𝒇 𝒑𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒅𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒉𝒆𝒂𝒓𝒕𝒔 𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝒍𝒐𝒗𝒆 𝒐𝒏𝒆 𝒂𝒏𝒐𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒓, 𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒏 𝒊𝒕 𝒊𝒔 𝒎𝒆𝒓𝒆𝒍𝒚 𝒂𝒏𝒐𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒓 𝒍𝒂𝒏𝒈𝒖𝒂𝒈𝒆.

Cinema is an other universe. It's in a class of its own. Every film watched, every moment shared... A lovely, peaceful recollection.

“𝐈 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮. 𝐈 𝐚𝐝𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮. 𝐈'𝐦 𝐢𝐧 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐬, 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐬𝐢𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞, 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐩𝐞𝐚𝐜𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐬𝐨𝐮𝐥.” My moonlight you are, my sensations you awaken...the thoughts I love.

𝚆𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚒𝚜 𝚜𝚙𝚊𝚌𝚎? 𝙸𝚏 𝚗𝚘𝚝 𝚜𝚑𝚊𝚛𝚎𝚍 𝚘𝚛 𝚍𝚎𝚜𝚌𝚛𝚒𝚋𝚎𝚍 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚜𝚞𝚌𝚑 𝚏𝚎𝚛𝚟𝚘𝚛, 𝚠𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚒𝚜 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚒𝚛𝚎 𝚞𝚗𝚒𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚜𝚎? 𝙺𝚗𝚘𝚠𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚜𝚘𝚖𝚎𝚘𝚗𝚎 𝚎𝚕𝚜𝚎 𝚎𝚖𝚋𝚘𝚍𝚒𝚎𝚜 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚐𝚊𝚕𝚊𝚡𝚢 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚒𝚜 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚙𝚒𝚗𝚗𝚊𝚌𝚕𝚎 𝚘𝚏 𝚊𝚕𝚕 𝚊𝚌𝚌𝚞𝚖𝚞𝚕𝚊𝚝𝚎𝚍 𝚍𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚖𝚜 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚒𝚗𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚙𝚛𝚎𝚝𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗𝚜, 𝚋𝚘𝚝𝚑 𝚕𝚒𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚊𝚕 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚖𝚎𝚝𝚊𝚙𝚑𝚘𝚛𝚒𝚌𝚊𝚕.

Unbearbeitete Liebe, unbearbeitete Gedanken ... und doch nicht genug. Forever, and ever, is a very long time...but forever isn't long when you share it. Whether Spring morning, Fall afternoon, or Winter Nights— it's forever and always a pleasure, an adoration, a love song, a sonnet, a stanza; a word. Flutter birds, fluttering hearts...

@yung_pueblo

(𝐴𝑛 𝑒𝑐𝒉𝑜)

It is never boring or garish. It's unseemly in every way—leaves the body with a soft shutter. A repeat.

How cunning of it. What perfect timing. How awful it may be if the echo persisted. to have such a sound stand you and mark you. Artistically picturesque—but blindly in tune.

characterized by sound, guided by sight, and adored by touch. That echoes That distant cacophony is audible. Stay and then go. Neither drab nor very bright.

And where am I? Where do I commence...do I culminate here? Hurt and broken? Believing that it was something when it wasn't. I'm to blame. I put myself in a position to be facilely hurt...suppose I go back? I'd like to think I'd make different culls. But that'd be too facile. Nothing left to do but cry and move on.

Believe it or not the stinging sensational pain will fade and I'll be okay. Maybe not...now or next week; but I'll be okay. Insanely broken but better pieces I suppose.

Insane. I'm insane for the things I believe in.

𝐼𝑡'𝑠 𝑎𝑙𝑙 𝑡𝒉𝑒 𝑠𝑎𝑚𝑒.

—Solo—

VII

It was peculiar. More sophisticated but still possessing an odd charm. Only a one-hour special with Barbara Walters was all that Angelina had consented to. What happened to make it a three-episode event? Because of the ping-pong-style questions about her father and their rocky relationship. Her romantic life, her tattoos, and finally, what mattered most— Angelina's new life course. Her life had undergone a very significant transformation. In some ways, she appeared to have found her niche. There would be no more ricocheting between high and low emotions, no more craving for a spark-igniting sensation. Angelina felt at ease being who she was. She genuinely enjoyed being alive.

Barbara moved about in her chair, her eyes seeping right into Angelina's. “Before we start, I have to ask— have you done something different?”

“...Different? You mean like dieting?” Angelina's eyebrow lifted softly; she was confused about the question.

“The last time I interviewed you, you seemed...”

“Unhinged?” Angelina laughed softly but boastfully. She didn't have an issue with calling herself unhinged. Because it was true. There were heavy moments in her life, that didn't add up. If they so happened to— it was due to other outside influences. Which never seemed genuine.

While the cameras were rolling, the ladies' hair and cosmetic artists patted their cheekbones and nostrils with subtle glitter. To check her watch, Angelina slightly craned her neck and narrowed her eyes. This was consistently the part of Hollywood that appeared to drag on. Interviews never appeared to have a single subject. Angelina never felt especially skilled at them, though. In an effort to divert the conversation and draw attention to crucial concerns, she would do so. However, trivial issues like hair, makeup, attire, and dating rumors kept coming up. That was always Angelina's favorite. She seemed to be dating every prominent person. It was amusing to her when they pinned her to Ethan Hawke the previous week.

“Okay, last time we spoke, we talked of your enormous success. Your ground breaking roles. Your amazing achievement— and the films that helped you do it.” Barbara took a pause, her thin lips pursing softly, then she continued. “Now, you've signed on to do Tomb Raider 2, A movie with Ethan Hawke, and you've become a member of the UN Special Envoy Council for Refugees. A writer for TIME magazine. You've certainly changed course, yes?”

Angelina crossed her legs at her ankles. A nervous flutter hit her stomach, “Yeah—yeah, things have really changed.”

“Is there a reason you've changed? Is there someone who's pushed you into this change?”

“I wanted to change. I wanted to...well, I needed to see life from a different perspective.”

Barba had leaned forward now, her eyes fixing right on the actress across from her. “Was it your interest in foreign affairs that made you want to join the UN?”

Joining the UN wasn't just a result of Angelina's interest in one particular area of international affairs. She was aided by her inner and exterior curiosity. The difficulty of taking on significant responsibilities, which required some background knowledge, was another obstacle. And like many other things in Angelina's life, when she felt drawn to a particular topic and truly felt a sense of delight from learning about life, she had to be all in. She began to describe how she got involved in setting up for the UN Special Envoy group with a nod of her head. Babra continued to lift her eyebrows slightly, as if she were too shocked to believe it.

“I had received the script three years earlier and I wasn't sure I could do that particular role...” With a pause, the dark-haired actress gave a small laugh. “You get older, and things look different, you start to challenge yourself and I know for myself, I want to do more. Be more, help others through different ways.”

Barba smiled softly, leaning back in her chair. “You’ve certainly made an impact on others. Just last week you put out several TIME magazine articles. Is that a goal for you too? To become a writer?”

The middle and index fingers of Angelina were placed under her chin. She hadn't planned on that happening and hadn't given it much thought either. It was a release to write. She found that writing poems helped her maintain a healthy perspective on reality. She had strong opinions regarding the articles she had written for TIME magazine. Angelina understood that in order to be a writer, she would need to hold a lot of very strong opinions. Maybe. She might reveal her secrets at some point in the future, and she might even compose a couple scripts or more.

There were three sets of five minute breaks. In between those, hair and makeup bustled in and out of the room. They were rolling again, and Barbara was back to the personal questions again.

“You’ve expressed your life in many ways. You've also been candid about your relationships with woman.”

“Yeah,”

Barba chose her words carefully, “Is that something you're still interested in?”

Angelina absent-mindedly licked her bottom lip before answering. “I don't see it becoming something that I'll turn into a hobby. It isn't a hobby— I just found that I had a great time expressing myself in a relationship and that person happen to be a woman.” A few seconds of a pause came, and the actress nodded to continue. “I don't think it's a big deal or something that needs any further explanation.”

“Though, right now— are you in a relationship with a woman?”

“No.”

How long had Barbara been wanting to ask that? It was like she was nearly ready to explode if she couldn't ask Angelina, that question.

Barba continued by inquiring about secret marriages, which Angelina denied. She had two marriages in her life. Eight months were spent in each marriage. Eight months of total enjoyment spent together. Barbara gestured at Angelina's left arm as she was seated with her legs crossed and her hands folded on her lap. Angelina had a tattoo in lovely cryptic writing. Barbara and the camera could see that as well as the tiny roman numeral tattoo on her wrist.

“Is it true that you had a shoulder tattoo added and a tattoo on your back removed?”

“Mmhm. I uh, had to get that removed and then, I wanted something else.” Her laugh was sweet— Angelina's eyes widening from excitement.

“Something else? You've reported that you already have about thirty tattoos so far.”

With a goofy laugh, Angelina shrugged. “Yeah! What's the harm?”

Barba laughed too and like sly person she was, and slipped in a question. “Are you in love?”

Angelina slowly tensed up as her gaze focused on Barbara. She moved a hand to her head, tucking some hair behind her ear, and her facial gestures might have suggested a confused expression. “I am.”

“Have you changed because you're in love?”

“Doesn’t love or isn't love... suppose to bring change? Obviously in ways that are good?”

“You’ve been married twice, divorced...” Barbara, let out a trite chuckle maneuvering in her chair. “Do you think being in relationships changes you?”

Angelina let out a dejected sigh; Barbara choose this subject to talk about out of all that was possible. In the unlikely event that Angelina ever wanted to discuss her personal life in this way, she didn't want it to stem from the past. “I don't know, I can only be myself. But I know that I've changed, I've grown up. I've stopped being so inwardly intense with myself. I've been through darker times, and I'm finally happy being myself.”

Behind Barbara, one of the onsite directors help his hand— signaling that they had five minutes. Tomorrow, part three would be filmed and that'd be it. Angelina was sure, it'd be awhile before she agree to do anything like this, again.

“You wear leather,”

“Right.”

“You ride motorcycles,”

“Mhmm.”

“You write poetry, you love photography, you travel for charities— are you still a bad girl? A wild girl?” Barbara finally asked.

There were brief bursts of eagerness among the unnaturally quiet sounds in the room. Angelina nervously grinned while fidgeting with the bracelet on her left wrist. That was a substantial and slightly challenging question. Her gaze swept over Barbara's stern countenance, taking note of the interesting way with which she asked the question.

“I am. I'm still a bad girl, I still have a wild side.”

“Do you? ...Where has it been? You've done a good job at hiding it.”

“I don't hide it, it just has it's place now.” Angelina answered honestly. “It’s saved for my relationship, my experiences, my adventures— for my passions. Friendships. I just know where it is.”

The segment's final wrap-ups got underway. Regarding the next projects, scripts, and premieres that Angelina would be undertaking, Barbara made some remarks. Surprisingly, Barbara requested Angelina autograph a TIME magazine for her. Given that Angelina was convinced Barbara had not read it, it seemed surreal.

Angelina was worn out after three hours of carefree emotional self-exposure in front of the camera. Speaking of oneself might always feel like an out-of-body experience. Or perhaps she didn't feel the need to defend herself in front of others. She was appreciative of anyone who supported her and liked her. She had no use for anything or anyone that was negative.

Und nicht wahr, Leute, das ist es, was ihr bekommt, Leute ...

I should know better. To be a fool is one thing...but to be a fool and expect love? Tragic. And just like that, square one has returned. Guard up. Hopes limited and neither sad or angry this time. To wish is to be left hopeless, to dream is to be hurt; and hurt? That's life. Expect nothing and everything.