A video melodrama in six parts. A man, a woman, and a magical hairbrush, made of metal but light as plastic. Brush was filmed in Israel in 2001 and dubbed into English in 2007.
This may sound like a statement, yet it isn’t quite clear for what or for whom.
I wish I could write it without plot or story, yet show the connection between this text and that video. Thin sentences sketch rare paragraphs; sharp words light a burnt bulb in your desk lamp at night.
BRUSH can’t be mentioned in the same breath with 39 Steps nor with Titanic, for it lacks the budget, the colors, the actors, and more.
BRUSH won’t walk hand in hand with La Jetée nor with Breathless, for it’s written in prose and not rhymed like a poem; take a deep breath to follow its chapters, conversations, and songs!
While reading these lines and watching that picture, the viewer (that’s you) will discover the good and the ugly (the bad is not there)—the tension between actors, the flat British dubbing, the natural decor; the script that was written after a love long or short.
The time in your hands is more fragile than glass that broke and was mended and fell once again and broke and was mended once more, till one cannot tell where it all started and where it will end.
Purple-blue lightning in a bright crystal ball touches the fingers of a curious boy. And then it all seems certain and clear for a second or less, through the letters and words that this text manifests.