An Enchanting Soundtrack
by Lostalley
It’s a French movie that I saw a couple of years ago. I barely remember the story, but the soundtrack left a mark. When I listen to it, desires rise. I want to draw a twinkling evening, waltz in a misty Spring, ride a red bicycle with sunglasses at night, hum a wordless song in a long dive under azure Aegean Sea, jump on a train bound for an unknown destination with no luggage, set sail for a deserted island with no compass. My mood flies high, my imagination runs wild. I feel illuminated, raptured, and haunted, like a fenceless garden, a rusty bridge, a silent creek, a worn suitcase, a twilight dandelion, a mosaic window, a sunken ship, a bewildering dew, a hollow lantern, a wandering whistle. I lie down, on a lone bench, by an aged wall, with blue wisteria hanging over and down, in a narrow alley paved with cobble stones. A stray dog stares at me, the night sky breezes velvety, and the moon-lit street lined with plane trees seems infinite. I try to remember a distant encounter on the beach, a zigzag line of footprint, her ankles and sandals, a soft wave caressing an insatiable lust. "Dans la Maison" soundtrack saturates through the subconscious like mercury. I sink into a bottomless crevasse and wish to stay there.
Philippe Rombi, the composer, is from Pau, a quaint and secluded French town in the Pyrenees. So is my ex-girlfriend. I have been there to visit her mother. It’s a beautiful memory.
03/21/2015, Maryland
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