Against the flow
Within a life ever tightening in length, we move with faltering steps, seeking space continually crushed by reality. Life races past like a hastily drawn 2D sketch, and existence seems reduced to endless trades of bargaining chips. Only when utterly exhausted do we pause, sighing at the passage of time and life. Some call upon companions; others walk alone. The journey becomes a deviation from the norm—a path that, though unconventional, brings peace. Even if we cannot cast everything aside without hesitation, we still dance unrestrained in memory, in separation, in life and death, gazing upon the fleeting radiance within and beyond the cinematic frame.
Author羅珮嘉倫敦大學電影史與視覺媒體研究碩士，曾任職公視及雜誌社。現任台灣女性影像學會秘書長及影展總監。經常受邀至國內外影展單位擔任策展及講師評審工作。 文章散見中國時報、LEZ 及Openbook等平台。
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Those irreversible slices of life
Recently, in a novel I've come to love, I found myself grasping the weight of life's slices. In the story, there is a wicked sorcerer who freezes people in the instant just before tragedy strikes—suspending everything, sealing it into a crystal ball, and building an entire museum from these frozen moments. And isn't film, in its own way, just as cruel? As viewers, we are little more than instruments for collecting tissue slices—slipping into a character's world for a single fleeting moment, wandering through it in passing, only to return, in the blink of an eye, to the reality that is our own.