Jumbled Memories

Tale of Tales has been rolling around in my noggin for a while now and I still make as little sense of the story as I did watching it. The whole thing reminds me of the way my memory replays things. Distant memories from childhood are often fragmented, corrupted by my imagination, or just not there. There's the baby nursing and seeing the little wolf, followed by a glowing doorway that leads to a field with a buffalo skipping rope with a little girl, an artist who seems to be having writer's block and musician's butterfingers, a cat whose only concern is fish, a mother trying to prepare dinner or wash clothes (I can't quite tell), and a father returning home with a catch of fish. Then there is a house that gets boarded up with the wolf from before investigating the cars parked around the house. Suddenly the cars start, a small grass fire gets lit and then all the cars leave. Then winter comes and goes...well you know the rest. Or if you want to watch it again: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=t-Xne3FztR0

But anyways, this masterpiece is brilliantly rendered and has so many underlying themes that one cannot simply decide what it is saying after the first twenty viewings. But perhaps that is another lesson to take away from it. We are not always going to find meaning and life lessons in good and beautiful stories or works of art. And that should be okay.

I have trouble being okay with it, but it is...really.