The Flower Shop

Logline: A shy girl must find the courage to save the world.

FADE IN:


INT. FLOWER SHOP - MORNING

The flower shop is closed. A kitten strolls around the place. She jumps from the counter and lands on a Japanese cherry blossom flower. A painting. On the ground.

She tip-toes over it gently and walks into a gigantic braken. The kitty prepares to fight. She hits it with her paws. She hits it again. She throws herself on the ground. She is on her back now fighting the gigantic fern. She grabs a tight hold of a leaf. It gives away.

The kitten spruces up. She arches her back slowly, eyes fixed on her prey. Watching. The leaf on the ground appears to stare back at her. The kitten pounces on the leaf. It doesn't move. She looks at it. She tries moving the painting. She startles and looks up. Her eyes widen. She looks towards the front door.

The sun floods the small flower shop. White flowers, daisies, and an arrangement of bluebells. Majestic colors. A hibiscus appears to take the entire ray of morning sunshine in, and shines a beautiful bright yellow.

The kitten named BELLA, watches flower after flower being revealed. She turns her attention to the wave of light traveling fast through the brown Mexican tiles. As the rays of sunshine approach her paws, she steps back. And back. And back. The wave of light gently stops. Bella stops too. She stares at the shadow that has settled by her paws. She looks around. She meows!

2            EXT. THE ROCKY MOUNTAINS - MORNING

              A beautiful set of Colorado Columbines grows aside a trail. Mist and dew roll off of
             them to the ground.

                                                 NARRATOR (V.O.) 

                             Billions and billions of flowers, adorn valleys, mountains,
                             prairies and human gardens throughout the world.

 3           EXT. A JAPANESE GARDEN - MORNING

             Japanese irises of all different colors streaming alongside a lake.

                                                  NARRATOR (V.O.)

                              Of all the life forms humans interact  with on this planet,
                             flowers are the most intriguing to us.

 4           EXT. SOMEWHERE IN CENTRAL AMERICA - MORNING

              A single rare orchid from the Rhyncholaelia Digbyana family sways in a light breeze
              in the early morning of another day.

                                                  NARRATOR (V.O.)

                             It is said, that each flower emanates its own single 
                             source of energy and that it walks among us, humans, 
                             capable of understanding and harnessing that energy.

5            EXT. SOMEWHERE IN SOUTH AMERICA - MORNING

              A light rain falls over a dense vegetation in Amazon forest of Brazil.

                                                  NARRATOR (V.O.) 

                              For the rest of us, we tend to manufacture a pragmatic
                             relationship with these little creatures.

 6           EXT. A PRAIRIE SOMEWHERE - MORNING 

              Black Eyed Susans fill the screen.

                                                 NARRATOR (V.O.)

                              We plant them. Gather them. Place them in vases 
                             and other arrangements, and pass them along to 
                             each other....

7            INT. FUNERAL HOME - DAY

             A group of people stand around a coffin. The room is filled with fresh cut flowers.

                                                  NARRATOR (V.O.)

                              ...to mark special moments in our lives...

8          EXT. A SMALL HILL - MORNING

            Beautiful lilies spread throughout as far as the eye can see.

                                                  NARRATOR (V.O.)

                              ... most other times, they are just there, witnessing our
                             descent into a place further and further from ourselves.
                             They silently bear witness to humanity walking away from
                             all that make us spiritual beings...

 9           INT. LAURA'S BEDROOM - MORNING

              A 9-year-old girl named LAURA GARCIA is sitting in the background typing on a
             computer. SONIA GARCIA, HER MOTHER, EARLY 40'S walks in.

                                                  NARRATOR (V.O.)

                             ... they have been content to observe us quietly for
                             hundreds of thousands of years...

               Sonia places a vase with flowers next to her daughter.

                                                   NARRATOR (V.O.) (CONT'D) 
                             ... until now.

                                                   LAURA                                
                                              (sneezing)         
                             Atchoo!!!

                                                  SONIA 
                             Are you getting sick?

                                                  LAURA 
                             I don't think so.

               Sonia grabs some clothes from the floor and heads towards the door.

                                                 SONIA
                            Please be ready and on time today.

                                                 LAURA
                            Mom, I don't have school today.  It's Saturday.

                                                 SONIA
                            I know silly, but your father is picking you up. It's his day
                           to spend with you. He will be here early. 

               Laura makes a face but Sonia is already out the door.

10          INT. FLOWER SHOP - MORNING

FIRST 10 PAGES...

O Life, Where Art Thou?

In the Freedom

of your arms, night,

I find peace -

neverlasting.

Your wishes

stir my soul:

to create, to write,

to rest in peace.

In the warmth

of your embrace,

life is mutable:

filtered into a beauty,

I didn’t know exist.

We are all junkies

of the feelings you provide:

in factories, in narrow streets

scarcely bathed, light,

in the beauty and poetry of a lamp post.

We surrender at your feet;

we forget death; we forget life;

we forget ourselves:

our fears,

our demands, our mights

and we serve you

unconditionally.

“And so

from hour to hour

we ripe and ripe.

And then

from hour to hour

we rot and rot.

And thereby hangs a tale.”

Marco Aurélio and his friend William.

the art of REYNOLD POERNOMO

(click on pictures to watch being made )

White Noise

The Robbit Hole Dessert

Apple Pie and Cinnamon Parfait

Chamomile Ice Cream with Popcorn

 

HEALING

In many shamanic societies, if you came to a shaman or medicine person complaining of being disheartened, dispirited, or depressed, you would have been asked one of these 4 questions:

1- When did you stop DANCING?

2- When did you stop SINGING?

3- When did you stop BEING ENCHANTED BY STORIES?

4- When did you stop FINDING COMFORT IN SILENCE? 

                                   MEDITATE...

           

social contract @ the dark side of us

I was listening to one of the greatest songs ever recorder and thought of my absent father, who couldn't hear it without getting really annoyed; and once had the audacity to say: "this person is screaming."

Pink Floyd - The Great Gig In The Sky

I think I finally understand what getting old means; it's not when you can't enjoy a new art form or understand a new tech feature, it's when you don't give a damn about learning it. 

It's when you look at it for 2 seconds and think: "Nah, I think I'll go do just about anything else." 

How To Make Instagram Story Highlight Covers For Free: Instagram Tutorial For Story Folders

How to Use Instagram Hashtags for Maximum Exposure

How to Use TikTok - Complete Beginners Guide

How to Edit a TikTok

How to Clone yourself on TikTok  ---------------(really? 2 of me? why?)

Wipe It Down TikTok Tutorial 

Every writer in the world share a single secret, and that is the absurd searches we do when researching any subject. After watching these tutorials, I began pondering about all of these titles and a playful, rhetorical thought crossed my mind:  "Can I just die already?   

So I  typed my frustration into the magical search box because; well, why not? 

" Can I just die already?" And out came this...

This OLD MAN Will Not SURVIVE! - Just Die Already    

I watched almost 12 minutes of this video. I watched because I believe you ought to walk on someone else's shoes before commenting about anything. I didn't find a single amusing, endearing or funny moment in the entirety of this video game. Yet, the kid playing the game was having the time of his life. And the people commenting on it are as clueless as one can get.  

We are all connected in such a strange way.  I think that our social contract needs a serious revision. Or we simply accept that the world has become a very, very ugly place with some nasty, nasty people in it. 

( I debated whether or not to post this, since the whole research made me so depressed that I felt it would not be in anyone's best interest to share it. But I soon realized that the video above has a medical diagnostic function: to determine mental illness. If you watch it and find yourself laughing, having a good time, it is time to look for professional help. )

I am going back to my books,  and some coffee and croissants, while listening to some Zen music...and I will stare at this picture for awhile.

(click on the photo to join me...or don't. )

FOR YOUR CONSIDERATION...

 

Straw Hat

     

     From my window I can spot you, daily. You left your things behind; things you no longer need, things you outgrew, things you carried around and finally today, it became too much for you to carry.

    Your footsteps barely carry your weight; it seems from up here, where I watch you visit this café; an oasis for your kind: their kindness, their non-judgmental service of free ice water, as cold as the Los Angelinos came to be; with their supermodel stares, as they meet and greet each other right next to you ; praising each other dogs, while you sit listening, your presence not sensed. 

     Is there such a thing as hope inside of you? Any expectation for kindness, a "Hello" perhaps, a sense of normalcy, of belonging to this city, of making through the night.

     It's dark outside, as dark as the moment that parted you and yours. How long will your steps last when already burden by days and nights, by dragging yourself and your things across town looking for a place to rest.

     If the life of a homeless person is not a testament of how human beings are coded for survival, even in the most abhorrent of circumstances.

     At some point in your day, you seem to remember how they treat you here, behind the counter, the sense of normalcy and acceptance you must derive from this place to end up here nightly. Even if the reality is that we don't care; we don't acknowledge you, and perhaps it is the reason you come here. 

     There are so many homeless in Santa Monica now that our eyes have become accustomed to it; as irises adjusting to darkness. And if being around us, unnoticed, makes you feel less alone; well,  it is the least we can inadvertently do.