The look of innocent fear. And yes, that’s a pool of shit.
I’ve been catching up on movies that I haven’t had time to watch in the past, be it due to school or National Service. Like one of those things you say you have to do but put it off eventually because of some excuse.
So one of those movies was Schindler’s List and now I’m really angry with myself for not watching it years ago when I could have. I’ve read and watched lots of stories focusing on the World War and the Holocaust, and although the movie is firstly about the survival of the Jews, it’s also the story of the personal rebirth of the man who saved them – Oskar Schindler.
Looking at Schindler in the movie is like staring straight into the mirror. The flesh is an illusion; it’s the soul, or lack thereof, of this cold-blooded bon vivant that causes such a chill in my heart.
He went from a charming megalomaniac to a life-saving humanitarian and it’s the former which resembles a lot of who I was. Whether I turn into the latter is the question. . . I’m going through so many personal changes that I don’t have an inkling whatsoever of what I’m growing into.
But I do know what I was: someone who dwelled in material possessions and galvanised into action only when it benefitted the self. So much money have I wasted on things I don’t need, on things that give a sensation of quasi love simply because it provides the fulfillment of having something.
Yet true love should be about giving it unconditionally and not about taking or having it.
Saying all that doesn’t rubber-stamp a “Samaritan” on my chest. It’s a critical juncture in my life because it challenges by entire belief system, and all because I met someone in such a crazy off-shoot chance that I still can’t believe how coincidental it was.
I’m so apprehensive of where this journey leading to. I fear that I will become more lost than ever before. Time will tell soon.