- Clive Owen, BMW Films: The Follow
My life has turned into a waiting game now ... bad news can arrive quickly, but good news may take its time. The dice is rolling and it may be some time before I know how things end up. In the meantime, I'm returning to the one activity that has always brought me comfort in these moments - writing. I will write what I can while my mind rides the knife's edge between anxiety and hope, apprehension and optimism.
For the first time in my life, I saw my father cry ... and just writing that last sentence makes me feel a bit unsteady.
My father and I spoke at length tonight. You'd have to know the history of our relationship to understand what an extraordinary statement that was - but without a doubt, it was the most real moment I've had with the man in all my years of knowing him.
We spoke of things understood, but never discussed: my gun-running Triad boss grandfather, his absentee father. There is a certain terrible beauty in the story of Zhang Duan-Lu and the boy that was my father in pre-Mao Fujian - and as I listened, I can't help but wondered how many inter-generational stories are lost ... not for lack of a teller, but for want of a willing ear.
"You've always been a gifted storyteller. Can you write this story? For me?"
"Of course, ba ba." I reply, quietly. "Tell me again about what you remember about ..."
And as his eyes drift out of focus summoning memories over half a century old, I began writing as fast as I could.
to be continued
PS: I apologize for being cryptic last week - especially to those of you who've sent me concerned emails/IMs. I'm afraid I will have to continue to be opaque for a while longer. In time, I hope I can offer more transparancy and I am moved by well-wishers who took the time to register your concern. Thank you.