When we nip the slurred chapter of a story, our tendency to reach the resolution is inevitable. It quacks the hurriedness inside of us, slowly counts our unbearable gasps, and senses the desperation to have the feeling of awe.
But why are we so impatient?
A beautiful image in our mind requires time to capture and form an exact copy for it to be preserved in the memory. While the uncanny details make that particular scene memorable, our boggling pre-assumed ideas reap the indifferent experience or, probably, a feeling of boredom.
Ah, we must pry to something interesting, something musical, some laughter, some noisy brainless fight or an audacious angle! Sitting at this lousy chair is not my all-time job; it’s a waste of time and frankly, it depresses me sometimes.
Well, this preposterous amusing arrogance is nothing but a mirror of our own lives. How fast we can be if the time allows all to move at the same pace. We need to slow down but before that, we must glue our eyes to the screen and allow ourselves to be a part of that story. We see when it sees, we breathe when it breathes, we laugh when it laughs (or we can cry when it laughs), we walk when it talks, we hear when it goes mum, we sleep when it wakes up.
Then… Probably then, we could find the blurriness in the story without despising it!
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