Adaptation

Amanecí con 31 años que me traen de vuelta a esta película y a la afirmación de que hay que viajar ligero de equipaje, con la fuerza suficiente para hacer renuncias definitivas a tooodas las personas, cosas y situaciones que no nos dejan avanzar. DONE WITH FISH!



SUSAN: So how many turtles did you end up collecting?

LAROCHE: I lost interest right after that (...) I dropped turtles when I fell in love with Ice Age fossils. Collected the shit out of them. Fossils were the only thing that made sense to me in this fucked-up world. I ditched fossils for re-silvering old mirrors. My mom and I had the largest collection of 19th-century Dutch mirrors on the planet. Perhaps you read about us. Mirror Planet, October '88. I got a copy here somewhere.

SUSAN: I guess I'd just like to know how you can detach from something that you've invested so much of your soul in. I mean, didn't you ever miss turtles? The only thing that made your 10-year-old life worth living.

LAROCHE: Look, I'll tell you a story, all right? I once fell deeply, you know, profoundly in love with tropical fish. I had 60 goddamn fish-tanks in my house. I'd skin-dive just to find the right ones. Anisotremus virginicus, Holacanthus ciliaris, Chaetodon capistratus. You name it. Then one day I say, "Fuck fish." I renounce fish. I vow never to set foot in that ocean again. That's how much "fuck fish." That was 17 years ago, and I have never since stuck a toe in that ocean. And I love the ocean.

SUSAN: But why?!

LAROCHE: Done with fish.

SUSAN (V.O.): If you'd really loved something, wouldn't a little bit of it linger? Evidently Laroche's finishes were downright and absolute. He just moved on. I sometimes wished I could do the same.