Inferno

eleven | the reminiscence

Autumn. The weather's been characterised by dried leaves and empty trees in literature since decades, making it sound something synonymous to a tragedy. I didn't get it until that day happened, those pretty red and orange leaves crushing under the weight of my limbless body. It doesn't feel that long ago, but reality and the paper calendar hung on a wall in my room at the inn, say otherwise. 2nd September's not just a date for me anymore, it's a cruel reminder of everything that's happened to me since, everything I've lost. So usually I spend this day wrapped under the sheets, knees to my chest, away from the world or anything living and breathing.

But whether it's reflection or the scenery painted outside the windows, scrawling out the fact that I'm in Spain, something's got me out and unwilling to stew in my pain all day. Hands wrapped around my torso, the bare threads of my blue muffler flying awry with the chilly breeze, I step inside a rust walled building.

The place is generally dark, beams of yellow light littered in spots, mainly by the camera equipment up front. Behind the fancy set up are rows of chairs and bobbling heads, my view distorted from where I'm standing.

"Please come in," the instructor; short, smiling, dressed in a brown coat, the colour of which is similar to his unruly hair and beard, looks at me, encouraging me to take small and steady steps. Some of the ones sitting turn around as well, but my eyes stay focused on one. Callum.

There's a glint of recognition in his eyes as well, furthering when I occupy the vacant seat beside him. He's the first one to initiate a conversation. "Leia, right? Chase's friend?"

"That's me," I shrug, feeling some of the tension dissipate at the sight of a familiar face.

I registered for this short filmmaking workshop a week back, after I saw the pamphlets stuck outside the bakery at the inn. Written on it were so many terms he'd throw around almost everyday after coming back from his course in Seattle.

It didn't take much thought at all before I rung the contact printed, but now that I'm here, it's another thing altogether. Callum begins saying something, but the instructor takes over the mic, our interaction coming to a stand still for the time being. "Looks like everyone's here, so we'll begin now. Filming 101, a name I put absolutely no energy into, admittedly," he earns a couple laughs and chuckles from the group, voices echoing off the dirty white walls. "This isn't one of those workshops where I feed you the legendary history of filmmaking and successful filmmakers. You know all about it, and if not, the internet does, more than me in fact. What I want to impart to you in these two days is something that's worthy of carrying with you your whole career. Unforgettable, like a Spielberg production if you must."

"Forgive me, I'm a fan," he forms an immediate connect with the audience, grasping their attention when he picks up the camera erected on the tripod stand. "Some of my best days in this line are those when I didn't have a concrete plan. I just set out with this old thing and roamed all around the city, capturing whatever inspired me. It's a feeling I can't explain, so I want you to experience it for yourself. I believe you've all brought your cameras?"

A chorus of yeahs and hell yeahs does rounds of the group, while I just look around, frantic. I believe it was mentioned in the course catalog, which I skimmed through in less than a minute while Gilmore girls ran in the background. Shoot.

"Great, so your first order is to break free and get me your understanding of this mysteriously beautiful city of Barcelona. You'll perform this exercise in pairs, so split up as you like. We'll meet tomorrow, same time, same place and look at the wonders stored in your cameras. Don't disappoint me," he's off with his equipment, and people begin dispersing from their places at the same time.

Everyone but me, who's sitting as awkwardly as the new kid in a school, scowling. What made me think I could do this, fall into his shoes for a day, is a memory faraway, blurring as my eyes develop a film of mist. "You want to partner up?" Accent laced, I recognise the voice as Callum's, turning towards him. "It'll be fun."