After second viewing, I am no less impacted by the power and the beauty of this factual story. Hard hitting, strong performances all round. I am still haunted days later, again, by the strength of characters, humanising story, dehumanising circumstance.
The poem that was recited at opening scene and later shown hand written on screen is as follows:
There is a meadow in my perfect world Where wind dances the branches of a tree, casting leopard spots of light across the face of a pond... The tree stands tall and grand and alone, shading the world beneath it.
There will come a day when I rest against its spine and look out over a valley where the sun warms, but never burns...
I will watch leaves turn.
Green, then amber, then crimson.
Then no leaves at all... But the tree will not die.
For in this place, winter never comes... It is here, in the cradle of all I hold dear, I guard every memory of you.
And when I find myself frozen in the mud of the real - far from your loving eyes, I will return to this place, close mine, and take solace in the simple perfection of knowing you.
Emily Lambert.
The poem that was recited at opening scene and later shown hand written on screen is as follows:
There is a meadow in my perfect world Where wind dances the branches of a tree, casting leopard spots of light across the face of a pond... The tree stands tall and grand and alone, shading the world beneath it.
There will come a day when I rest against its spine and look out over a valley where the sun warms, but never burns...
I will watch leaves turn.
Green, then amber, then crimson.
Then no leaves at all... But the tree will not die.
For in this place, winter never comes... It is here, in the cradle of all I hold dear, I guard every memory of you.
And when I find myself frozen in the mud of the real - far from your loving eyes, I will return to this place, close mine, and take solace in the simple perfection of knowing you.
Emily Lambert.
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