Thursday, April 12, 2012

Remembering Yasmin

She had an unparalleled ability to tell sincere stories. The quality of light in her work was always perfect, like dust motes hanging frozen in a sunbeam. She wrote lovable, painfully real characters. And when she was done telling her story you were left wanting more.

I find my thoughts drifting to her more and more these days. I'm trying to pinpoint the exact way she inspires me. Or to be more precise I'm trying to determine how much like her I want to be. If I could even achieve 1% of what she had, I'd be happy.

If I had to choose, I would want her eye for composition. Her perfect lines, shapes and movement.

Could I have her soft, misty light that made each and every frame of her movies seem magical?

I'd never dare to ask for her ability to write romance and relationships. That was hers and hers alone. It came from a place deep within that no one else could come close to.

She had something special. And she had so much more of it to show us. Thanks Yasmin.

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