10.29am, PHS I. Cold!
When I close my eyes and listen to Chez Chanel, I see a beautiful butterfly garden. I hear strings, and the wind, and the harp, and the triangle, and the timpani. Is there a piano at the background? I see paper-thin, shimmering butterflies in a Technicolor garden filled with roses and tulips and daisies and lilies and unnamed flowers. A lady in black and white dress and a man in tux are dancing fervently in the middle of the garden, surrounded and not disturbed by the butterflies. And as the music gets more intense, so is their dance. There is no direct eye contact between them, but something indescribably strong exudes from their dance, as if this is the last dance they will share on Earth.
I never liked butterflies. They are pretty, of course. But I never feel comfortable, because I visualise their death. Their death is horrible. Butterflies are like angels - don't you think so? - so shouldn't an angel's death be as beautiful as its life?
Butterflies lie limply on the ground, its wings, no matter how colourful, immediately dulled. It seems to emanate this strange, pitiful aura.
I'm so bad with words -.-;;
Coco Avant Chanel and its soundtrack are equally brilliant. A must-watch and must-listen! <3