In the basement of my house there’s a door I’ve always noticed.
I open it and behind it is a little cozy theater.
It’s one of those old rooms full of dust floating among wooden chairs.
A soft light hits the big white screen showing short videos.
On the side of the screen, two small speakers spread the sounds and the voices of the characters of that film.
The images sometimes jump from one setting to the other.
I sit down on the first chair, in the fourth of the five rows, and I stare at the screen.
The stories are infinite.
They don’t always follow a plot, they can last one second or one hour, but for some reason everyone of them evokes a great emotion on me.
Some ones make me laugh, others cry, a few ones make me close my eyes, others make me desire to watch them forever.
It’s a weird, but sweet sensation.
I forgot where I am, what I am doing, or what I’m thinking.
I just feel like what I am watching is my life, my memories, my mind…
And only one thing can bring me back to reality: a quote that my old friend used to say:
“There isn’t such a nice film as the one you are shooting, everyday.”
(J.Apo.B.)
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