It always hits different after Almodóvar.
I cheers to that, with a sakazuki cup warming my palms, in the middle of the night. I close my eyes and frown with the song in the background, while it's hitting me differently. My fists start clenching as soon as I hear "that very" flamenco guitar with the saddest female vocal, an old mezzo with the agonizing lament with the most tormenting lines you can ever imagine... I catch a whiff of an exquisite rose, tend to wilt. Pause. And imagine. It is there deep in your subconscious, where your brain often tells you not to go. Judas's reflection looks at me and shrugs - tells me that everything's going to be alright and then gives me the purest kiss on my cheek. I instantly feel like I'm in Eden again. It feels like home, I know this place. I have been here before. I can stay here for a while, guilt free. This atmosphere is so warm and bracing, welcoming me with it's freshness, wants me to stay. I. know. I start laughing like crazy with joy over the fee