—𝑭𝒐𝒓 𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒓𝒚𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒈, 𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒆 𝒊𝒔 𝒂 𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒅.

A monarch butterfly (Wonders of Life - BBC)

These are the hours. The hours, the minutes, the seconds. And the mind? Brutal.

𝐷𝑒𝑛𝑛 𝑒𝑠 𝑔𝑖𝑏𝑡 𝑆𝑐𝒉𝑜̈𝑛𝒉𝑒𝑖𝑡... 𝑢̈𝑏𝑒𝑟𝑎𝑙𝑙.

Unkempt. morning relaxation I wake up in the sunrise with a new lease on life. That was borrowed language. Life is only temporary.

Life isn't just about big things; it's also about small things. “Life is fleeting...” Gestohlenes Zitat.

There is beauty within and around us, yet—what does the human mind focus on? the haze. the night. the gloom. However, grey has been painted as a distasteful color. It's extremely lovely. It's almost perfect; it's refreshing enough.

And when I write, I encounter little comprehension. No maps of my route exist, I am aware of this. My brain is spinning. Where have I come from? What should I do? Where should I start? Oh yes. Beautiful art exists. Art is beauty. I'll write this down in my journal. I'll take a picture of it and draw it. I'll stamp a postcard to seal it after that.

“She lived in her imagination and dreams. She liked only what was most elegant, and if she couldn’t have the best she would do without the second best, because second best meant nothing to her.”

— Theodor Fontane, Effi Briest (1895)

—Solo—

VII

It was peculiar. More sophisticated but still possessing an odd charm. Only a one-hour special with Barbara Walters was all that Angelina had consented to. What happened to make it a three-episode event? Because of the ping-pong-style questions about her father and their rocky relationship. Her romantic life, her tattoos, and finally, what mattered most— Angelina's new life course. Her life had undergone a very significant transformation. In some ways, she appeared to have found her niche. There would be no more ricocheting between high and low emotions, no more craving for a spark-igniting sensation. Angelina felt at ease being who she was. She genuinely enjoyed being alive.

Barbara moved about in her chair, her eyes seeping right into Angelina's. “Before we start, I have to ask— have you done something different?”

“...Different? You mean like dieting?” Angelina's eyebrow lifted softly; she was confused about the question.

“The last time I interviewed you, you seemed...”

“Unhinged?” Angelina laughed softly but boastfully. She didn't have an issue with calling herself unhinged. Because it was true. There were heavy moments in her life, that didn't add up. If they so happened to— it was due to other outside influences. Which never seemed genuine.

While the cameras were rolling, the ladies' hair and cosmetic artists patted their cheekbones and nostrils with subtle glitter. To check her watch, Angelina slightly craned her neck and narrowed her eyes. This was consistently the part of Hollywood that appeared to drag on. Interviews never appeared to have a single subject. Angelina never felt especially skilled at them, though. In an effort to divert the conversation and draw attention to crucial concerns, she would do so. However, trivial issues like hair, makeup, attire, and dating rumors kept coming up. That was always Angelina's favorite. She seemed to be dating every prominent person. It was amusing to her when they pinned her to Ethan Hawke the previous week.

“Okay, last time we spoke, we talked of your enormous success. Your ground breaking roles. Your amazing achievement— and the films that helped you do it.” Barbara took a pause, her thin lips pursing softly, then she continued. “Now, you've signed on to do Tomb Raider 2, A movie with Ethan Hawke, and you've become a member of the UN Special Envoy Council for Refugees. A writer for TIME magazine. You've certainly changed course, yes?”

Angelina crossed her legs at her ankles. A nervous flutter hit her stomach, “Yeah—yeah, things have really changed.”

“Is there a reason you've changed? Is there someone who's pushed you into this change?”

“I wanted to change. I wanted to...well, I needed to see life from a different perspective.”

Barba had leaned forward now, her eyes fixing right on the actress across from her. “Was it your interest in foreign affairs that made you want to join the UN?”

Joining the UN wasn't just a result of Angelina's interest in one particular area of international affairs. She was aided by her inner and exterior curiosity. The difficulty of taking on significant responsibilities, which required some background knowledge, was another obstacle. And like many other things in Angelina's life, when she felt drawn to a particular topic and truly felt a sense of delight from learning about life, she had to be all in. She began to describe how she got involved in setting up for the UN Special Envoy group with a nod of her head. Babra continued to lift her eyebrows slightly, as if she were too shocked to believe it.

“I had received the script three years earlier and I wasn't sure I could do that particular role...” With a pause, the dark-haired actress gave a small laugh. “You get older, and things look different, you start to challenge yourself and I know for myself, I want to do more. Be more, help others through different ways.”

Barba smiled softly, leaning back in her chair. “You’ve certainly made an impact on others. Just last week you put out several TIME magazine articles. Is that a goal for you too? To become a writer?”

The middle and index fingers of Angelina were placed under her chin. She hadn't planned on that happening and hadn't given it much thought either. It was a release to write. She found that writing poems helped her maintain a healthy perspective on reality. She had strong opinions regarding the articles she had written for TIME magazine. Angelina understood that in order to be a writer, she would need to hold a lot of very strong opinions. Maybe. She might reveal her secrets at some point in the future, and she might even compose a couple scripts or more.

There were three sets of five minute breaks. In between those, hair and makeup bustled in and out of the room. They were rolling again, and Barbara was back to the personal questions again.

“You’ve expressed your life in many ways. You've also been candid about your relationships with woman.”

“Yeah,”

Barba chose her words carefully, “Is that something you're still interested in?”

Angelina absent-mindedly licked her bottom lip before answering. “I don't see it becoming something that I'll turn into a hobby. It isn't a hobby— I just found that I had a great time expressing myself in a relationship and that person happen to be a woman.” A few seconds of a pause came, and the actress nodded to continue. “I don't think it's a big deal or something that needs any further explanation.”

“Though, right now— are you in a relationship with a woman?”

“No.”

How long had Barbara been wanting to ask that? It was like she was nearly ready to explode if she couldn't ask Angelina, that question.

Barba continued by inquiring about secret marriages, which Angelina denied. She had two marriages in her life. Eight months were spent in each marriage. Eight months of total enjoyment spent together. Barbara gestured at Angelina's left arm as she was seated with her legs crossed and her hands folded on her lap. Angelina had a tattoo in lovely cryptic writing. Barbara and the camera could see that as well as the tiny roman numeral tattoo on her wrist.

“Is it true that you had a shoulder tattoo added and a tattoo on your back removed?”

“Mmhm. I uh, had to get that removed and then, I wanted something else.” Her laugh was sweet— Angelina's eyes widening from excitement.

“Something else? You've reported that you already have about thirty tattoos so far.”

With a goofy laugh, Angelina shrugged. “Yeah! What's the harm?”

Barba laughed too and like sly person she was, and slipped in a question. “Are you in love?”

Angelina slowly tensed up as her gaze focused on Barbara. She moved a hand to her head, tucking some hair behind her ear, and her facial gestures might have suggested a confused expression. “I am.”

“Have you changed because you're in love?”

“Doesn’t love or isn't love... suppose to bring change? Obviously in ways that are good?”

“You’ve been married twice, divorced...” Barbara, let out a trite chuckle maneuvering in her chair. “Do you think being in relationships changes you?”

Angelina let out a dejected sigh; Barbara choose this subject to talk about out of all that was possible. In the unlikely event that Angelina ever wanted to discuss her personal life in this way, she didn't want it to stem from the past. “I don't know, I can only be myself. But I know that I've changed, I've grown up. I've stopped being so inwardly intense with myself. I've been through darker times, and I'm finally happy being myself.”

Behind Barbara, one of the onsite directors help his hand— signaling that they had five minutes. Tomorrow, part three would be filmed and that'd be it. Angelina was sure, it'd be awhile before she agree to do anything like this, again.

“You wear leather,”

“Right.”

“You ride motorcycles,”

“Mhmm.”

“You write poetry, you love photography, you travel for charities— are you still a bad girl? A wild girl?” Barbara finally asked.

There were brief bursts of eagerness among the unnaturally quiet sounds in the room. Angelina nervously grinned while fidgeting with the bracelet on her left wrist. That was a substantial and slightly challenging question. Her gaze swept over Barbara's stern countenance, taking note of the interesting way with which she asked the question.

“I am. I'm still a bad girl, I still have a wild side.”

“Do you? ...Where has it been? You've done a good job at hiding it.”

“I don't hide it, it just has it's place now.” Angelina answered honestly. “It’s saved for my relationship, my experiences, my adventures— for my passions. Friendships. I just know where it is.”

The segment's final wrap-ups got underway. Regarding the next projects, scripts, and premieres that Angelina would be undertaking, Barbara made some remarks. Surprisingly, Barbara requested Angelina autograph a TIME magazine for her. Given that Angelina was convinced Barbara had not read it, it seemed surreal.

Angelina was worn out after three hours of carefree emotional self-exposure in front of the camera. Speaking of oneself might always feel like an out-of-body experience. Or perhaps she didn't feel the need to defend herself in front of others. She was appreciative of anyone who supported her and liked her. She had no use for anything or anyone that was negative.

II. —Solo—

“You’re getting something else over it?” Julia asked, her face was contorted in concern as her voice was laced with disbelief.

Angelina nodded as she sat in the backseat of the car criss-cross with her journal prompted on her lap. The girls had been talking about various things. More particularly, the next few days of Angelina's schedule. Cristofer put off filming due to the confusion and frustration derived from traveling from New York to Philadelphia - there was trouble transporting filming equipment. Angelina enjoyed the fluidity and breaks between filming.

Again, the topic turned into the “wild” stuff Angelina had been dabbling in. Though, she couldn't exactly lable it as ‘wild’ when all she did was get two new tattoos. Slip-shot ones at that. Initially, Angelina's tattoo was to be completed in the Netherlands. She had a nitch now to travel-she was itching to be anywhere but where she was. But just like the filming, it had been cancelled. Nothing to worry about-she hired an artist.

Julia looked over her glasses peering at the almost fading in colour, brunette. “You really had that guy tat you, in the back of his car? Needles and everything?”

“Mhmm,” Angelina answered as she flipped through her journal. Some pages felt damp to the touch; signaling she had just written on them...more or less scribbled too.

Julia was stunned when Angelina told her how her dragon tattoo was done. It was not so much that Angelina got it in such an insensitive place, but rather where, the tattooist had done it. In the back seat of his car! The women had traded sentiments of bubbling fun nitpicking jabs—in which Julia had grilled Angelina in a questioning manner if she had been high at the time.

“Well yeah... How else do you think I stayed calm?” Angelina laughed giving a callus shrug.

Her need, the burning intensity to just say 'fuck it!' and get the tattoos was evident that night. It hurt, and the close body heat between her and the artist was above her comfort zone. It didn't matter though; She felt like she was trapped, too confined, too small right now. Is this what would happen every time the end of filming approaches? Angelina had been wondering that for a couple of days now. She didn't forget that under her pillow, at home, laid Lisa Rowe. Scripts itself were like a hot portal into the next character, next personality she would be exposed to. Or rather, it was like a hot piston digging into her body. Is that why she was on the edge of running? Wanting to get pricked and drawn on?

Angelina twisted her lips in a puckering motion as she let these dragged and explosive thoughts filter in and out of her mind. Her eyes were on Julia but she couldn't hear or understand what she was saying—she knew she was saying something because her lips were moving. While she delved deeper into her thoughts, Angelina felt her conscience slipping. What was truly happening to her? Not in the moment, but inside of her. Why did she store the script under the pillow, like a dirty little Playboy magazine? Why was she still insistent on getting a tattoo?

With a few slow blinks she raised a hand to her head touching the messy bun of hair. Almost like a reassurance that she was still here, still alive, she tugged at the hair on her head and let out a low chuckle. Julia had turned fully in her seat facing the correct position; done speaking, Angelina guessed. It was almost like the ride was going on forever—she'd lost track of where they were going. Next to her were the roses that the tattoo artist had given her. They were wilting now; it seems like she was wilting as well. That thought alone caused a bit of a creepy smile to curl her naturally pouty lips—yeah, maybe she was wilting...changing, adapting. It could all be into something she'd look back on and be proud of. Maybe, maybe, that's why she wanted new tattoos, maybe that's why she found herself recording everything into her journal, maybe that's why Lisa Rowe frightened her so. Maybe. Maybe was always a bright side.

—H.

I'm choosing to do it with the sound. I'm going to give up my life's baggage and physical torments.

On all fours, I'll reach the surface of the Earth. I'm going to drain the blood of all illicit drugs.

I'll take hallucinogens. I'm going to cry as I'm mortified.

I'll revert to my old habits.

I'll look for new recreational activities. As I see new ways of unleashing self-inflicted pain.

The World's strong downpour will reveal me to be immaculate. My own horrible thoughts will make me messed up.

I'll... Continue to be a flawed individual.

my mind is full of flowers, dreams, gentlemen and ethereal ladies

Daily Affirmation ♡

- Mahmoud Darwish from 'Memory for Forgetfulness: August, Beirut c. 1982 (tr. Ibrahim Muhawi)