small talk

Originally uploaded by kristalynn.

i recently rented born into brothels and i cried from beginning to end.

now, i wasn't crying because of the kids, as frigging awesome as they were. i was crying because i used to be like this woman. i used to travel the world and fraternize with the locals. i made amazing friends, set up schools for young girls, shared dinner tables with goats and chickens, and contracted dysentery. it was the best time, ever. it was hot, i was dirty, i had my camera, it was heaven. and now... it's a different story. i've exchanged my walk-on part in the war for a lead role in a cage.

a few days before i rented this movie, i attended a pre-dinner cocktail party. film people. talking about, despite the dearth of film productions in the city, how they've managed to work every single day for the past three years. yes, you're good. yes, you're fabulous. bla, bla, boring, bla.

i scoped out the yard for another conversation. ”who could be more interesting...?"

i simply took another swig of beer.

then i saw her. another lost, bored soul. my savior: a seven year-old girl.

i approached her. we conversed about past lives and how they affect our current life. she made me laugh, she made me think. she was the most intelligent person i'd met all year. i looked back up (i was crouching down to speak to her) to the other people at the party. my heart sank.

don't make me go... the voice in my head pleaded with her. please don't make me go back and talk with those people...