A friendly email invited me to apply for membership in the panel of screeners for the upcoming Atlanta Film Festival. With innocent and smiling eyes I filled out the form and turned it in–hoping to make it, not sure what I was doing, but feeling cool every second of the process.
A friendly email notified me that I was in fact accepted into this circle of evaluators and would I please join a conference call next week?
Of course!
Now, I begin my journey through 90 films in 15 weeks, hallelujah.
I wish I could write about these films–the ones that grab my insides and squeeze, the ones that tickle me pink, the ones that leave me, just leave me. But, alas, the beautiful privilege of screening denies me company in this adventure. It makes me wonder what Someone must feel like Who knows and sees everything, the exquisite and the unlovely, and holds it all in silence.

Suspended in Silence
Silence.
Silence.
Silence.
Pregnant silence. The kind of silence that must fill the earth when sees germinate in the spring. The kind of silence that whitewashes elephant bones. The kind of silence that makes you want to seek other out but finds that no bridge could span its borders…
The truth, perhaps.