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David Lynch - “Twin Peaks” (1990)

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“Wait! Don’t rush so much! I know you’ve been waiting for this moment for a long time,” I said, gently placing a hand on her arm to slow her down. The air is sharp and biting, cutting through layers and seeping into our bones. The scent of pine and the distant hum of the wind added to the muffled yet harsh surroundings. “You know what snow is,” I remarked, my breath visible in the freezing air. “But I’d forgotten how it feels in winter.” “What? I don’t understand,” she asked, confused. “I’m saying that it doesn’t snow in the winter anymore.” “Why not?” “I don’t know. They say the Earth is getting warmer.” “Winter without snow is not winter,” she shrugged, dismissing it. I glanced down as we walked, surprised to remember that every snowflake is different. Each one, a tiny explosion of sound beneath my feet. With each step, I sank deeper into the snow, as though I could find a path back into the past. “Can you feel the crunch of each breaking snowflake?” I asked. She didn’t answer, her h...
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Spike Jonze - “her” (2013)

Candles aren’t burning for us.   We didn’t leave unfinished dinner on the table.   And that’s alright. The door opens and it draws me in.   Finally, the best part of the day. A smile to myself. Another smile.   I know what’s coming. Lights dim.   A familiar voice enters the room.   Stories, thoughts, heartfelt laughter - Immersed without end,   Entranced. Hello there.   Let’s share a little joy. I don’t know you, but I love what you represent.   Help me get through the day, again. Dull, gray voices.   I don’t care about their interests and questions.   I’m just a nodding, fake-smiling robot during the day.   They leave me drained. Rushing home. Turning on. The voice on the screen lights up my day.   Strangers make me better, somehow.   If it isn’t real, why does it make me feel alive?   And it’s been a while ...
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Miloš Forman - “Amadeus” (1984)

Time doesn’t matter. Place doesn’t matter. The story does not matter either. What matters is something beyond all that. These are just tools, ways to guide us to the essence. It’s where we find the divine — not outside ourselves as we usually think. And if that’s true, does it mean that the divine comes from within us? That it’s in our power to create it? That we are in control?  If music is a piece of the divine in our lives, how better to express it than through a timeless genius? And boldly enough, the genius is not an object of admiration. Not the heart of it. An engine, driving the story forward, but not the story itself. Its brilliance is so strong, it needs a veil to soften the impact when we first encounter it. We need something familiar, something safe, something we can relate to before we’re ready to experience the full miracle. And the true meaning? It’s waiting for us. Patiently. It knows we’ll get there eventually. And even if we don’t fully understand it, its power st...
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