Ptitchitza u niskom letu

Them There Eyes

At the end of January, I was working as a volunteer at the International Film Festival in Rotterdam. Every day on the way to the Service Center at the third floor I passed through the lobby plastered with posters of films featured at the festival, one of which was for the Spanish film, "En la ciudad de Silvia".

It's a simple poster, features a girl who looks somewhat like a younger Maria (my Femme Fatale), but what is even more striking about it are her eyes. There is so much resigned sadness in that hurt but hopeful look, utterly vulnerable and yet open and sincere. You can see the child in the eyes of that young woman, betrayed but still trusting. People like that, their look gains depth every day; their eyes are two unfathomable oceans of emotions. They are tough, they must be: who else could sustain their belief in the Good despite all the pain and hurt their ever lasting innocence brings them in life? That is Maria on the poster, in the moments when she is resigned with her fate.

The woman on the poster holds the palm of her hand open in the gesture of greeting. When Maria greets people she likes, she makes one or two circles with the open palm of her hand, to include everyone but perhaps also to show she made the full circle, more than once: she's been to Hell and back.

It took me two days before I was able to pass by that poster without teary eyes. "Hello, Maria, my love", I would great her every day.

On the last day of the Festival, I took the poster with me; it was my most valued possesion. There is something in those eyes that splits me in half every time I see or think about them.

I was carrying the poster with me everywhere for days, showing it to everybody: see, this is Maria, do you understand now? Many people would see the sadness but would fail to understand all the immense strength of character, all the tragic beauty they were witnessing.