After Sunrise

That last three minutes of “Before Sunrise” (1995) are always a punch to my gut. The inevitability of the end of the shining relationship. The rising of the sun burning away the evening of dreams and possibilities. Collapsing infinite potentials into a concrete reality. Exposing the detritus of the night’s revelry. Exchanging uncertainty on the edge of the teeth with the clear declaration on the lips of rational adults making rational decisions. “We are back in real time,” we reluctantly groan.

And then the flip at the train. The manifest exchange of certainty with potentials. Feverish, breathless abandon pushing aside rationality with passion. We will meet again, will we?

Personally, I love the sunrise; I just hate waking up for it. I also hate what it does to the world if the night allowed the world to feel something. It shows us passion is folly, although hours before passion was as real as solar fire.

Babycakes and milkshakes. Don’t you know me? Don’t you know me by now?

Published by Shawn

He's just this guy, you know?