film review
Portrait of a Lady on Fire
A painter and her subject fall in love across a handful of stolen days in eighteenth-century France, and the entire film devotes itself to the discipline of truly beholding another person. No men, scarcely any plot: only gaze, grief, and a page number you’ll never forget.
what it left me with
To be genuinely seen is a rarer fortune than to be loved. When it happens, commit it to memory: you are assembling the one thing you will get to keep.
this is one entry from a wandering list of films, books, shows and albums, kept by someone trying to live a slightly more deliberate life.
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