After watching Capernaum, I didn’t find answers to my questions, but I understood why I had them. It was as if the film clarified where my dreams came from. I remembered a day, right after graduation, when I sat outside the library with the same person I’d met four years ago. We’d come so far since then, and somehow, the lives we’d each created became a quiet competition between us in high school.
That day felt like a scene from a movie. We started out at a distance, as COVID rules kept us apart, but she still mentioned how much she liked my art. That didn’t stop her from being nice. By the end, we were sitting side-by-side on a bench, both of us in our dresses, though my heels were broken. And she dropped me at my house. We began talking, and even though I tried to stay in the present, I couldn’t help but bring up the past and how far we have become. She asked me questions, and before I knew it, I was talking about my dreams. She listened in a way no one else had. For the first time, I actually heard myself speaking openly about a dream I’d kept hidden.
She looked at me, fully engaged, and said, “You have such different dreams. At your age” In that moment, I felt understood. I’d carried these dreams in silence, unable to explain them to anyone, even when I tried. But with her, I found myself able to put them into words without fear of judgment. It wasn’t just that she heard me—I heard myself, too, that day.
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