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I saw a movie at most a year ago. Filmed in Ireland, the entire thing plays backwards. Maybe 8 minutes long. A guy circles a cauldron repeatedly. There’s a horse’s head and eels wriggling like an icon inside the cauldron which is directly below the camera. Then you watch him running up and unwrapping the horse’s head and placing it into the cauldron. He begins scooping out water from the bottom of the cauldron. Slowly there is more and more water as you watch him scooping it out, backwards, until it’s entirely full. Then it ends. I saw it on some art blog and will apparently never find it again.

I remember scraps of poetry whose reality I can no longer determine.

“Lost, dreamless, fairyland lies a forlorn sight” does not yield up anything on google. Did I pretend I read it in a dream and that’s why I only remember one line?

I read a poem translated twice, or at least that was what the title implied. It was very swoony, about a funeral procession in Rome on a rainy day and thus my teen-aged self loved it. I only remember mentions of the rain and leaves on the ground, No phrases.

I read the quote “All my life, my heart has yearned for a thing I cannot name,” and it was the only sentence that meant anything to me for quite some time. It was only recently that I finally figured out that it was Andre Breton.

Touched by a Surrealist! The indignity of it all.

At least I remembered it was da Vinci who asked, “Why does the eye see a thing more clearly in dreams than the imagination when awake?”

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