coffee no. 102

I had a friend who was excellent at telling the films' plot. She was the one of really few people I could have listened to for hours. We were spending a lot of time together so when we run out of conversation subjects, she often started talking about the film she'd seen recently. No matter how good it was, my friend always made it a masterpiece. Always. While listening to her I was able to create all the images in my head, all the situations, colors, smells etc. It was like reading an outstanding book. It is obvious that I wanted to watch those films because they seemed so perfect. But most of the time they did not and I was mostly disappointed because my friend's relation and ipso facto my vision were kind of different from them.
Yesterday I was watching "The Hours" and the opening scene put an unwary smile on my face. I know it was a bit dissonant while Virginia was commiting suicide, but at that moment I recalled my friend telling me about that film two years ago. It was exactly the same, as if I had already seen it. Some kind of Pre-raphaelite atmosphere, a bit of Ophelia, those colors, everything.
And once more I missed the hours we spent together because they were really precious.