I just have seen the French movie "Amelie" with Audrey Tautou. Wonderful movie, full of those little things that make up the life. The head and the soul are so full of those. They come from the childhood, they live with us, yet our peers hardly, or never, see them. Things that are inside of us, invisible, hidden behind of the dust blankets of the adulthood's years of amnesia.

Does the romantic love last? It surely does in the vacum of time, but if it doesn't in the real life then still, we should cherish it. One of the most beatiful of our traits. Like all in the life it is just a moment that comes and goes, but sometimes that moment cements it's image in our memories and stays there forever. Those images build up, and build our personalities.
How many people have seen even and inch of the mile long iceberg that froze my memories into my soul? All they see is a dark calm waters, endless abyss, occasional stir. As if I had no past, no life inside, as if I was a piece of machinery designed to exist in the present, as if I was a furniture that is being moved from one corner of the room to another.
Buddhist minds try to live here-and-now, I do too, but without the past we are nothing, do not exist, are worthless. We can understand now only in the context of the past. We can only see ourselves only in that context. Without that perspective we are no better than machines, bio-phisical bodies, flesh, dirt...

Who remembers the most romantic moments of my life, my wife, my ex-girlfriends, no! None of them do have any idea. My best friends might, but maybe not. What a shame since those are the fundamental memories of my life, a ruler I measure everything else by.

Today, I measured the movie by that rule and it scored high. Little things that make us alive and make as want to live and dream.