Stalker

"The flowers are blooming again, but they've no scent." Desire may seem like an easy topic to pin-point and label, but its inconceivable; it relies on a deep understanding, a look on ones whole life. To seek an honest desire, is to live a life of suffering - to reflect upon what has caused such agony. Actualizing it, to admire such distress is to soften - sprout the branches of vulnerability, and humility - as a young sapling; rather than a hardened tree. True strength, honest conviction towards God is something that falls upon your openness to life's out-of-reach wants; wishes that are only achievable through the journey of life, not the cheating - nor denouncement of it. We may say that we want good health, passionate love, and wholesome ideals - but its what our subconscious craves, that defines us humans as mere spring flowers; with good intention - but no scent, no real faith towards our false convictions. One casts their faith blindly - a nut tied to a cloth - throwing it blindly into the formidable world, following its likely absurdity. Guiding us through life, and its traps, the uncertainty of the silent beauty that surrounds us. Seeking peace, and fulfillment in a world that prohibits its human inhabitants - overgrown with marsh - littered with the rusting residue of human evolution, and destruction. A faith that demands trust, and the dismissal of doubt. Forthcoming in the shape of a dog - is the lingering impression of uncertainty - appearing; as the feeling of skepticism is instilled within. As one starts to doubt themself, their devotion, the essence of life and its love fades to a dull yellow; a bronzing color, symbolic of the dissolve in transcendence, reducing one to a hopeless world. What is the interplay between faith and desire - can they align, do they account for our subconscious? A person may think they understand themselves - comprehend what they seek in life - what they yearn; and what one ultimately devotes themselves to. Our greatest wishes demand something deep from within, a secret part of our mind that our conscience cannot fathom. Shall it be redeemable, to find out what such a subtle, locked yearning partakes towards; or is it best to realize, that this particular knowledge is one of disdain? a spiritual masterpiece, that I still have such little understanding of. Tarkovsky puts these surreal, dream-like visuals of a world that mirrors our own, and layers it within your subconscious.