Assignment 1 | Script
I adapted the narrative for this project from a piece I wrote a few years ago:
Maybe there are two worlds.
Maybe one is full of magic and wonder, and the other is full of logic and reason. Maybe in one nothing makes sense and yet everything is sensible, maybe the moonlight makes everything bleed and birds glow when they sing and children laugh with their hands. Maybe the other is full of sharp curves and soft winds and harsh expectations. Maybe one is a place of possibilities. Maybe it is ruled by hearts and kindness and laughter. Maybe, if people, perchance, ended up in this world, they would be bewildered by the lack of sadness and fatigue; maybe they would not know how to react or behave in a world where the powerful are not trying to take advantage of the people they are supposed to protect. But, maybe, there is no need for power imbalances, because why do you need power where no one is selfish or greedy or egotistical?
Maybe these worlds intersect. Maybe this world bleeds into ours in the way the sun bounces off flowers in a meadow. Maybe we find our way into this world in the breeze that blows through the leaves. Maybe we find ourselves closest to magic and enchantment in liminal spaces, in the moments between sleep and wakening; in the view of farmers' fields in the middle of the night on a long train journey; the feeling of vivid sonder on a bench in a bustling public square in a vibrant city. Maybe the more we confine ourselves into rigid boxes and schedules, the further away we get from this magical world. Maybe the more we try to understand ourselves by finding explanations for everything; the more we realise that there are infinitely more things in this universe than can be grasped in one lifetime, the more we cut ourselves off from experiencing true magic. Maybe the more we close our minds and decide there is only one right way to do things, the more we seal our own fates.
Or, maybe, there are not two worlds at all. Maybe there is just one, this one, and we have to find magic ourselves. Maybe none of this is true but maybe all of it is. Maybe the magic lies in the way lights twinkle on freshly rained asphalt; in the curl of our sister’s hair; in the way the waves distort the sunlight that glaces off them; in the split second before we hug our mother when we see her after six months; in connecting with like minded people across distances and decades. Just maybe, the world isn't cruel or uncaring at all, just mostly full of people trying their best in an environment that seems opposed to magic. Maybe we let everything in this world that we don’t understand make us cynical. Maybe there is no happiness without sadness to oppose it; maybe there is no magic without logic to contrast it. Maybe happiness and sadness and magic and logic aren't worlds that mirror each other but feelings that reflect each other. Maybe we shouldn't let negativity stop us from finding the romance hidden in words and art and music. Maybe the building with the stone carvings we pass by every day or the sound of waves crashing on the shore or the flowers growing through the cracks in the pavement are trying to tell us something. Maybe magic exists but only if we look for it.
