My own Proust's experience

Like a lightning in the dark, memories always catch you in a most
unprepared way, skip before you grasp. That is why people honoured memories as Ghosts, it's not you found them, it's they who caught and haunted you.

I walked to the pier humming that tune again, felt so frustrated as I couldn't remember the name. The only thing I know is that I used to love the song. Frustration symptoms lasted for a few days when I walked passed the pier until the ghost revealed itself. The song was called Love Letters. (phew, i don't believe i fall for that sin of banality, so it's definitely not the spell/curse of February 14). Rushed back to home to dig out the soundtrack of Blue Velvet.

A few notes of music bring the overwhelming impression of the past. I was shocked I forgot how pretty Isabella Roasellini and Kyle MacLachlan were, I was shocked I forgot the beauty of the film, violence blend with tenderness (typical David Lynch), I was shocked the film was released in 1986. Maybe I just feel a bit melancholic for the time passed.

In 1986, where were you? what were you doing? I was too young to go to see this category III film in cinema, but I was definitely shaped by abundant abnormal aesthetics.