у меня всегда были сложные отношения с кино....

I always had a difficult relationship with the movie. I usually fall asleep in the 7th minute. if I’m still not sleeping after the 15th, then most likely I will be able to watch. but this rarely happens. and it's not about the films, of course. it’s just easier for me to perceive ideas and plots in the form of words. it’s easier to listen to the movie, and even easier to read. looking at the screen all the time to understand what the author wanted to say is very annoying.
In this sense, I am the very digital that lives primarily in the world of ideas and words, and only then in the world of all other incentives.
and, yes, perhaps the author did not want to say anything at all, but wanted to show it. and you need to be able to see it. and for this watch an hour and a half. without trying to squeeze out an idea that could be expressed in words in five minutes.
and so I lived for a thousand years, unable to plainly watch a movie, feeling it as an unjustified waste of time compared to reading.
and today something suddenly prompted me to open the "Kingdom of Beauty" and see. just to look and, perhaps, for the first time to catch the synesthesia of an idea and a visual image that lasts does not end, but it also does not translate separately into words. I understand that for movie buffs, and even more so visuals, this is not news at all. but for me it was an unexpected experience.

while I am here celebrating new sensations from indivisible thoughts and images and don’t know how to more compactly express in words the visually conveyed idea of ​​the film, I recall the one who owned the word, like all forms of art at once. but he is a genius.
one of the most beloved and the film was in tune with him:

Architecture, the mother of the ruins,
envious of the clouds
whose cloudy head is boiled
in whose meadows
the bomber walks
that is more invulnerable
for the eyes - spy on the general
affairs - seraph,
only you alone, architecture,
fiancee, bride, pearl
spaces whose lip is not stupid
as Tasso sang
immense courage
which we cannot comprehend
justify the location, address,
pockmarked brick.
You are, in essence, that with which nature
didn't manage. Zana she
dare not expect offspring
from the boulder
trying to stop searching
get rid of the fuss.
But the future is a stone thing
and that is you.

You are a vacuum empress.
The facet of your scabs
in your hand the crystal sparkles
rising
faster than Everest;
put on a pyramid, a cube,
so honed by the idea of ​​a place
on Chronos tooth.
Born in the imagination
which you survive
you are the next move
step by drawing
naturalness, tall huts,
chasing your attic
- in the direction from where it is heard
one tick.
Sighing about their penates
in plant motifs, etc.,
you are more for super feathery
creatures perch
not so much playing with dolls,
like thinking they will exalt
prudently opening his dome
like a parachute.
Noise of Time, nothing known
fend off. But, in turn,
his need for things is stronger than
vice versa:
both in society or in housing.
For Time your temple, your trash
relatives as a thousand interlocutor
like us.
What could be more eloquent
than inanity? Only
nothingness itself, whose cornfield
you're brain dust
not so much the dials as
the galaxy itself, about communication
guessing the role of a shard
asking there.
You are, roughly speaking, full
looking at prostrate prostrations
sifting us through a sieve
lived. units
flirting with that light
taking forms from him,
so that we understand why
we are faced.
To ethereal with abstract envy
and vice versa
yours, architecture, ovary,
but also the fruit.
And if in the ionosphere
really only zeros,
your loss at least
end of the earth.
I.B.