A scratched, mute, uncensored film strip -
Unattended and unleashed - tells a story in jumping images
On the toothless wall of an abandoned ruin of a dazzling forest...
Only a blink of my eyes feels the colors of a black and white picture
Sounds lose their tracks within walls that wish they could talk
There are so many telepathic questions for the Writer/Director ..
Why the storm?
Why a Tragedy?
Why is the end left to interpretation? Whose?
Does HE plan a sequel to my present script?
Am I just one anonymous, Life's passerby
stepping on stars reflected on puddles?...

*
Lights, camera...action!

Hollywood, Hollywood!!!

by: Iolanda Scripca