This kind of love. That kind of pain. In this life.

This is one of the only two movies that succeeded in giving me those butterflies in the stomach. Because it’s that kind of love and pain. That’s how love should be, isn’t it, to rescue. To grow. To become. It might not always stick, but if it’s yours it will come back. And it will grow with you. The right kind of love, for you.

One of the thing that made this awesome is Ewan McGregor, and I don’t even know why. Two of it is the Sigmund Freud reference in the movie. Three is the narrative. Four and five are the arts of it and the pain.

This movie is poetic–sorrowful and beautiful, just like how a poem should be. And until this day I don’t know what it’s supposed to be, but it’s just meaningful one doesn’t need to give it any definition.

I hope you like it too if you ever watch it. The name is Beginners.


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