I still have your number on my phone. One day I accidentally called it and I heard that familiar voice again. So I left a message: Let’s start over.
Tony Leung on Leslie Cheung
Am I in love? — Yes, since I’m waiting.” The other never waits. Sometimes I want to play the part of the one who doesn’t wait; I try to busy myself elsewhere, to arrive late; but I always lose at this game: whatever I do, I find myself there, with nothing to do, punctual, even ahead of time. The lover’s fatal identity is precisely this: “I am the one who waits.
One thing that happens, for example, is you start a painting, and you try to get it right. You say this edge is here, and then, no, it’s not, it’s further over here. And, the color isn’t quite that color. And slowly, bit-by-bit, your painting begins to get a little turgid, a little drab, and painstaking looking, and that’s not what you want. You want it to be lively! You want the surface to be lively, to somehow give the feeling of life, without being life. You give a little fleck to your brushstroke. You want it to dance off the surface. And you see that even in someone very realistic like Vermeer. You get close to Vermeer, and you see that it’s quite abstract.