Vermiglio
Dear friend,
I spoke with Luke today on the phone. I had my headphones in, which I really love. It feels free. Holding the phone to my head quickly feels like being in a box.
Luke reduces me to helpless laughter.
“I’ve a new fun fact about gingers.”
I could tell he had been saving it up. I’m a ginger, or at least I was until my hair turned white. But in his eagerness to insult me, he lost sight of the fun fact and couldn’t remember it. Whatever the fun fact is, it’s most likely going to make me groan and roll my eyes.
It’ll be worth the wait.
This morning I’d been to the worryingly named “Suspected Skin Cancer Clinic” for a checkup. I’d had a mole appear quite quickly on my chest, and Jeremy encouraged me to have it checked out. Thankfully, it’s nothing. The doctor explained how this type of mole comes with age.
The hospital staff looked tired.
They are real angels.
There was a television show we used to watch when we were kids about the staff of a hospital. It was called Angels.
Chiara and me went to the cinema complex at the Angel Centre in Islington this evening to see Maura Delpero’s Vermiglio.
There is so much stillness and presence in the film. It’s powerful and tender and moving. I was won over before even seeing the film by the story of its creation.
Maura’s departed father appeared to her in a dream. He came as his eight-year-old self and encouraged her to tell their family story. She shot on location in the Italian Alps in her ancestral village.
It’s cinematic poetry.
I hope you’ll have a chance to see it.
A baby smiled at me today at the market while I was buying bread.
So much sunshine in a tiny form.
The baby was only eight months old, glowing like the moon.
I got to thinking about people. On the tube on the way to the cancer clinic, coming home from the film; the majority of people are gentle and kind. We want to get on with our lives.
What shone through the baby’s smiles at the market and in the film is the primacy of love.
How easy is it to forget to love?
How we dance to win it.
When it’s ours to give.
One breath.
One step.
At a time.
Till tomorrow
Love
Mikey