Spirited Away

another beautiful film that feels like a nightmare. i was 5 or 6 years old the first time i watched this-i was a very timid child, everything scared me, made me shake and cry and hide my embarrassed and terrified burning red face. i didn’t have many friends, and by that i mean the only friend i had was zoe, who  i only saw a few months every year. so when when she invited me over to watch this and eat pizza i happily obliged. my palms were sweaty the second the movie started, and only got sweatier as it progressed. i was her, Chihiro, i was there,  i felt it all, i felt like i understood her, but i also hated that i felt that way. it made me sick, maybe it was the movie or maybe it was my hatred of olives which i was trying for the first time on the pizza. extra olives, nothing else, i hated them, but i tried to act like i didn’t, but eventually the mixture of the many olives and the grotesque gluttonous scenes became too much for me and i vomited all over zoe’s pristine fluffy white carpet. i ran out of her house crying, and later in the week asked my parents to rent the movie for me and i watched it probably a dozen times that week, and dozens of more times throughout the years. it’s perfect.