Shot on Super 8: “Thoughts in the now, heart stuck in 1813.
It’s never about the place — it’s about you in it.”
Wow, this week I’ve been musing about how I feel in this life: the tug-of-war between the present and that symbolic “1813,” like my soul’s out of sync, not out of place… like there’s an old soul living inside me, from another time.
But here’s my secret for dealing with it: The setting doesn’t shape the experience.
You do.
My dears, the magic of this world isn’t the world itself — it’s how you see it, how you live in it.
Don’t you ever just tune out the world and get lost in your own head?
I think it’s a question so many sensitive souls ask themselves quietly.
Sometimes, wandering through my mind feels like an 8mm film reel:
One Shot on Kodak ’65 — soft grain, washed-out colors or dreamy black-and-white, with that voice-over whispering subtitles in pure noir style…
but with a Caribbean twist that, while not your typical tropical paradise, gives it a vibe all its own.
Yeah, maybe it’s just my vintage soul, cold as ice but with tropical undertones like the breeze…
And I think that’s all of us — we just have to figure out who we are.
This week’s new philosophy:
Life is not happening to be..
Life is happening with.
How empty is society these days?
The real talk?
Pretty damn empty 😮💨
But not without hope.
People like us, who feel that void — we’re the ones who can fill it with something different.
So many folks today feel this emotional hollowness in the world.
Things move fast, feel transactional, and stay surface-level.
There’s this pressure to perform, to curate, to keep up — but not always room to feel, to connect real, or to just be.
When someone drops a caption — dreamy, nostalgic, poetic — it feels like a quiet rebellion against the noise.
A soft resistance. A yearning for something real, intimate, timeless.
Maybe even a nudge that the soul doesn’t belong in a world obsessed with appearances and speed.
Gossip sesh:
Chatting with a Chilean friend, he asked if I care about what others think. That’s a big question, you know.. He wasn’t talking about being curious about other people’s ideas but about how much their opinions of me affect me 🧐
I told him I care about the human side — what someone thinks — but not as judgment. I want dialogue that lifts you up, not clips your wings.
I literally said, “I love watching someone unfold their ideas, but I don’t care how they judge me.”
Personally, when I give an opinion, I try to make it a window.
Why? Pretty easy. ‘Cause that way, I’m empathetic, seeing what they see, while still walking with my own eyes.
I don’t like passing judgment or saying, “This is blue,” and trying to sway someone’s view.
I don’t want others to think through my mind..
I want my words — whether you hear me or read me — to be like literary architecture, each word a mirror.
Not a dark mirror or one that just shows your reflection and calls it a day.. I mean a mirror where the light is just right to see yourself clearly but also lets you look as far as your mind can take you.
And you’re probably wondering, how far do I look? I look without horizons, without limits, because naming something puts a fence around it, stunting its growth.
Dear reader, I don’t create a blogpost “for” someone, but “with” someone.
I mean— I think of my writing as stepping into your own mind, like it’s a house.
Maybe it’s got cobwebs and dust, maybe it’s swept and tidy, maybe it’s got no windows, or maybe you’ve never even gone inside, too caught up with what’s outside.
But my writing invites you to step in, to read things you hadn’t thought of before, to expand, to notice the couch could go by the window, and from there, you might start thinking about everything you see when you step outside — like a meditation, a self-exploration.
My words carry layers:
“Maybe with cobwebs and dust” → there’s neglect, but no judgment.
“Maybe without windows” → the mind as a space yet to see.
“Maybe you’ve never stepped inside” → we live outward, in noise, in consumption.
Me? I just brought you a candle 🕯️
I’ve always said there’s no absolute truth, and as Clarice Lispector put it:
“I am not me. I am a space that others fill.”
But me? I don’t wait for others to fill my space. I just open it up like a field without edges, a place where looking doesn’t mean defining — it means setting free.
In fact, I told my friend I sometimes feel my purpose in life is a bit like Socrates’. He asked if I was serious or joking, and I laughed at my own confidence when I said, “I am.”
He got a bit confused, so I clarified, “I’m not Socrates reincarnated. I mean I spark the same thing he did — I make people think.”
Dear reader, that’s what naturally moves me.
Here’s what I know, dear reader: if you’re here, you’re searching for something.
My writing will shake you up if you’re not ready to think about you.
Me? I’m not above anyone. I just know myself and share the paths I’ve walked, hoping you might start your own journey on one of them (:
This week’s words are just to say: you’re not alone. This isn’t a space where we’ve already “made it” — it’s a space to think together.
Even if my soul feels out of step with this era, that dissonance between my inner world and the outer one? It’s real, but it’s not a punishment.
For me, it’s a guide, a reminder that this is just one more journey.
And as my fun Chilean friend put it, ‘being aware has to tie to action‘.
His exact words? “Action makes you free, even if you mess up.”
Like I’ve said before, “Regrets are a waste of time.”
That’s not freedom. That’s trauma dressed up as tradition.
This reel of soul keeps turning. And every frame— every word— is a choice to live with, not for.
Bye now!🕯️
