Letter to Cinema Hall

My starry buddy!!! Hi!

The academics have so taken you up in their ladle of love, generously garnishing you with critical theories and reading you as a product of market study that I could not dare a bunch of my simple coterie of words for you. Whether your gloomy downslide or your cousin, the multiplex's extreme upside -- you have created a generation of dreams in those matter of dark hours of reel-time living. Real time.

And why did I say dark hours? I think you pull the curtains to a world of colour, to a world of more light than any that ever touches my life. I have so many, so many fond memories of you. My first in which we discovered that I have a myopia problem when I could not read the credit titles, or my first only with friends. That period in which you enabled me to discover the strongest self in me, when I would go alone, to watch a movie, with you. You inevitably arouse an excitement every time -- from the time I plan, or unplanned reach you, buy the tickets to avail you and then fiddle the way in darkness to find the assigned seat, until seated we eat through new trailers. And then you certify a watch, a promise.

What a friend you have been! Solid, loyal and fun. Such stories you tell me, such stories you make me a part of. I hope for this letter to reach you at a moment when the crowds desert you and after a lavish showtime you are all by yourself and your many empty chairs gaping at nothingness. I wish this letter caters to those hours of empty time and embraces the dust after the stars have left.

I have loved you, all my life. More than books, more than rolling greens and certainly more than shopping sprees. My adventures have all come true with you. How could I not thank you?

In light or none,

K.