「耳をすませば」– more commonly known as Whisper of the Heart, is undoubtably one of my favourite Studio Ghibli films – or films of all time. I urge you to watch it this very moment if you haven’t seen it already.
I found the Cinema Comic book version in a Japanese bookstore today.
Am I being delusional? I asked myself as my eyes landed on the book. I couldn’t believe it.
Having the movie in a tangible format; pictures that I can touch and read over and over to my heart’s content: intimacy only the cordial words and illustrations of a book can offer, is quite honestly, the best thing.
2016 seems to have arrived unwaveringly, striding through the threshold of time without once looking back. But before beginning this year, I wanted to take time to thank 2015 for all the opportunities and new experiences it has given me; I am very grateful.
What would a new year be without slurs of resolutions and talks of new beginnings? Newly regimented exercise schemes that are never started, aims to study harder never really accomplished – the list goes on.
Everything comes gradually and at its appointed hour.
Above is a remark made by Ovid, a long time ago.
Instead of failed resolutions and disappointment, know that some things are destined and some are, well, not. Be patient and content and confident; the course of nature will find its way to you. I have been inspired by Paulo Coelho’s ‘The Alchemist’, which I am in the process of finishing. It has given me hope – a mere fable, but a story so touching and profound. It has been a great start to the new year.
It’s odd to think that this new year really will mean a new adventure for me. I leave to Japan in early January: the beginning of my true gap year. I look forward to what fate has kindly predestined for me.
Olive trees and lemon trees were painted across a rustic landscape as I made my way to the secret garden. As I drove, the summer-coloured fruits of the many thousands of fruit-bearing trees streamed past my vision, like vivid dashes of watercolour on the pages of my sketchbook.
I really miss those views. Sometimes, I think that all I have left of them are old pictures and the paintings in my crumbled notebook that I took with me so often upon visiting.
When we arrived, I sat in my usual spot: under the aged, now withering grand olive tree. He had looked over me for almost two decades growing up. I dug out my sketchbook and started, as I always did.
I can never quite forget my last glimpse at him. There was a sense of betrayal. His impenetrable resistance to my attempt of conciliating his anger pained me.
As time went by, I had produced pages filled with oblong leaves, dotted with its ovular fruits. Splashes of rich green and yellow hues, and flecks of gold coalesced to create its form.
I one day wish to return there, to my secret garden. But for now, I will relive those moments through my drawings.
Mediums used: watercolour, pencil
Reading Khaled Hosseini’s ‘And the Mountains Echoed’, I was reminded of the symbol of my childhood – my olive tree. It rests in my old countryside home in Sicily, and I wish to draw it once more.
“Out beyond ideas of wrongdoing and right doing, there is a field. I’ll meet you there.” -Rumi
I found myself rummaging through one of my mom’s old boxes, when I came across some of her travel memoirs from two decades back. Packed in a grey, dull looking box, I initially put it aside. I eventually opened it, and I found photographs. They were in the form of slide pictures – the kind that are inserted into a projector, so they can be displayed for the world to see.
They were beautiful; a hundred photographs from the unknown land of Petra, Jordan – a place I long to visit. Rustic, sandy and arid colours were exposed, with a wave of reticence. These photos were concealed away in the depths of her memories. I sat qualmishly for a moment, hesitant, wondering whether I should have seen these pictures of her travel memoirs.
I don’t think my photographs or words will do them justice, but here are some of my favourites with a collection of my thoughts.
The boy in the photograph reminds me of a young character in ‘And the Mountains Echoed’, by Khaled Hosseini. (I’ll be writing more about that marvellous book soon!)
Photography – sometimes considered a menial and an all-too-common pastime, but there’s something about the reveries and pleasant thoughts that something so small can leave you in. I can only wish to capture photographs with so much meaning and emotion, as my mom did.
Ambivalence prevails when exposed to the thought of winter. It seems as though autumn has almost come to its end in London; fog is widespread and yesterday evening, the world was so still.
And so, to ignore that and my cold (Really winter? Couldn’t you have come up with something better this time?) I will indulge into yet another novel.
‘And the Mountains Echoed’ by Khaled Hosseini is what I’ll be reading. Having read ‘The Kite Runner’, which is a truly wonderfully written novel, I am intrigued to read his other works. I will be sure to post my thoughts once I have finished.