Atonement

The days grow longer and warmer and better.

So do other things in my life. Such as my sight and my common sense.

And a mole over my left eyebrow, which is also starting to come of age.

I've bought an eight-day pass for the eight-day-long subtitled films series which happens to occur perhaps only twice a year in this godforsaken city.

This means I have to see them all, whether I like them or not. At least they could be worse: Mio Fratello è Figlio Unico, Atonement, Vier Minuten, Dialogue avec mon jardinier, Death at a Funeral, Irina Palm, Ensemble, c'est tout, Once.

Atonement is one of those heart-stabbing movies I seldom put myself at the risk of seeing anymore. How I cried.

Mio fratello I adored. Go see it.

Bisous.