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By Ahmed Latif
The evening fluttered with a delicate coquettishness and the air grew saturated with the stale smell of worn-out luck. The probability that I’d find what I was looking for was constantly dwindling. I decided to leave and bid the silky silent night goodbye. But I wanted to wait. Something inside me wanted to wait. Maybe it was in a final effort to fulfill some tired cliché of seeing someone meaningful in the periphery, as they seem to like it there. The only thing that caught my eye wasn’t an epiphany or a cliché, it was all too real: an empty coatrack. Once again, seems like I was the last to leave. Apparently I have a talent for making stylish establishments a lot less stylish, and a lot less crowded. By Ahmed Latif
I have always wanted to be a film director but recently I came up with the perfect film. This film can fit into almost any genre: action, comedy, drama, or rom com. The film can be made using any budget, blockbuster or art-house. The film can be released as a Christmas movie or a summer flick. The film can open at Cannes or Sundance or even Tribeca. The film is a producer’s long lost brother and an editor’s best friend; that is to say it is both easy to edit yet filled with effects. It examines some heavy themes but in a lighthearted way. It deals with prevalent issues head on but utilizes a great deal of tact and savvy. It is self-aware without being condescending. It can be said to occupy the very essence and soul of minimalistic cinema. By Ahmed Latif
This is a children’s story. It contains mature subject matter. Reader discretion is advised. So what kind of children is the real question? *** Steven was a quiet alligator who lived an ordinary alligator life. Steven ate his usual alligator breakfast, an apple, with his girlfriend Annie. By Ahmed Latif
It was a soft summer afternoon, the one where the wind feels like a familiar kiss as you do the dishes after a big family feast held outside in the garden. That is to say, in a very long winded way, it was an hour to sunset and the temperature was 19 (Celsius of course because I am not a neanderthal) and there was a light breeze. It was the kind of afternoon that I imagine the corrupted youth of Athens longed for. The kind where they lounged around and spoke of all the things they saw and never understood. And the only person that told them the truth was Socrates. By Ahmed Latif
All cinephiles and avid moviegoers are familiar with the laws of film. These laws, seemingly antediluvian, are an attempt to protect the audience, regardless of size, and maximize the enjoyment derived from viewing the film. For example, pointing out the state of suspended disbelief with a comment such as ‘don’t overreact, you know this is a movie right?’ is absolutely forbidden. Another sample law of the cinema is to never stop the movie at the credits or leave the theatre at the beginning of said credits. The credits are an ode to those whose tireless efforts, getting lattes and jumping from windows, made this movie experience even possible. However, most people are not as familiar with a little known law of film known as the Brikerian Rule. By Ahmed Latif
It was a sunny day but there was nothing beautiful about it. Harold called me out to Cartwright Station just on the edge of the city, in the part of the suburbs we’re supposed to call quaint. I arrived and found this heaping mess of misery thrown into my lap; thrown by Miss Fortune herself, what a dame! |
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