Desde Perú, Jean Paul Du Bois, ex dupla creativa mia, realizó el corto “Graffiti &
Gun” (Letras Armadas), basada en una historia que escribi a los 16/17.
El corto se termino de producir el año pasado y Jean Paul
lo inscribio a varios festivales. Hoy entre al link del corto y
sorprendentemente no me pedia contraseña. Cuando miré la descripción del video
entendi porque.
Despues de ganar varios premios, el corto esta disponible
para todo publico.
Los premios son:
OBRA PREMIADA EN EL
CONCURSO DE OBRAS PERUANAS
Mención a mejor Dirección Artística.
GANADOR DEL INDIE FILM FESTIVAL. COLORADO USA.
SELECCIÓN OFICIAL LOS ANGELES CINEMATIC ARTS.
MENCIÓN A MEJOR CORTOMETRAJE FENACO 2012
Abajo comparto el link del corto y la historia original en ingles.
Graffiti & Gun
I'm standing in the
middle of a room full of corpses. My hands are covered in blood mixed with
paint, and I'm holding agun.
Suddenly you walk into the room. There's silence. Your eyes tell me what you
are thinking.
You've always been transparent to me, and I'm capable of reading your mind. I
know what you're thinking.
"what do i tell the live?"
I wish you would
walk closer to comfort me, speak to me.
Now you're probably thinking of what to say. It's an uncomfortable situation.
I'm thinking...
"Just, please, let my heart be comforted by the beats of ur voice."
It's like we are
telepathically connected and you've just read my mind.
"it's
ok". "Everything will be fine." As you say this you walk closer
to me and hug me.
At that second I wish you would have walked out as soon as you walked in. I'm
still holding the gun.
In your eyes it's written i've commited murder. We know murder is a big
sin.
People used to get
crucified for blasphemy all the time. Imagine what they did for
murder. In my head though, I think of when the people chose to free the
well known Murderer instead of the Messiah. I'm the Murderer. I can get
away with this.
Get rid of the
evidence and those who know; me and you.
While you hug me, you realize the walls behind me are coded with fresh writing,
that to you, is well known; my graffitti. Tears fall and all i can think
of saying is "i swear, the graffiti isn't
mine..."
For a second, I
think and i come to the conclusion that the cans of spray contain my finger
prints and so does the gun.
Still crying i
say "i promise the graffitti isn't mine..."
I repeat myself over and over again, untill I wrap my arms around you tightly
and burst into tears.
You dont respond to my reaction; you dont trust me, and i dont blame you.
I dont trust myself.
You stand still,
not knowing how to react.
"Hug me", I say, "Hug me like you've never hugged me
before"
You don't hesitate. I ask you to tell me you love me.
"I love
you"
The corpses
still surround us. We are still in the middle of all this mess.
I'm still holding the gun.
I hear you say
"I love you" for the last time. It's good enough.
But i won't leave without you. and two gunshots are heard.
