a memory of a sacred fig
I work at a boutique cinema. I'm not sure if it's a fancy adjective or it actually means something more.
We were screening a film I heard a lot about- The Seed of a Sacred Fig , I really wanted to see it but it was desperately sold out- people would queue for spare tickets so I knew there was no chance.
Part of my job is to come after the screening and clean up any possible mess you can find. I once found a finger nail but that is not important.
There was a woman- I assume from Middle East- crying her guts out. I honestly never saw a woman cry like that. Not even at a funeral I think. I ask her if she needs any help, through tears and cries she declined. After something like five minutes she would get together and leave the cinema. I was so moved and thought- I really need to see this film.
A month later we screened the film again, this time I got my tickets in advance. I was absolutely gobmsmacked by the power of the film. It's a slow burning masterpiece that evolves into a psychological thriller of extreme proportions.
I stayed for a debate with one of the actresses from the film and i realised- I will never ever understand the impact the film must have on a person, especially a woman from that area. We are not meant to get everything. And that's ok.