on Sep 1, 2009
She’s a fresh flower of the field in her own way. Very independent -a loner, actually- and completely absorbed in the game she thinks of as life. Will she bloom before she wilts? Will she ever learn? Should she?
Ginger comes upon the field and begins to play. Then the red forest girl sneaks up behind her and puts her hands over Ginger’s eyes like they’re playing “guess who”. The two play innocently. They run around the field until they tumble over, and then recline on the grass. Fade to black.
Well, it “fits” inasmuch as my ignorance of Ginger’s story seems to line up nicely with my ignorance of the emotional side of mensuration.
Part of the trip through grandma’s house is a flyby of her various toys at baby-cam height. There is a bit of barbed wire at the very end, but without any indication of danger before this point I don’t think it’s reasonable to assume Ginger came to any real harm. The barbed wire is probably just symbolic of the end of her innocence, the end of the parade of toys, the fact that this new development is a little scary, and the fact that, purportedly, it hurts.
Not like I would know. I know nothing about this particular life experience. I have no idea if Ginger’s story will resonate with a woman who has gone through this. I’m prepared to have this dismissed as bollocks, but I’m holding onto it for now since I don’t have anything better.
Her walk to grandma’s after the wolf meeting makes it look like she’s uncomfortable. Her head is down and she’s taking small steps. She’s probably not terribly happy, but even as a man I think I can marshal the intuition to realize that she’s probably just fine.