On certain rainy nights, I will pour myself a dark glass of Chianti and watch the Anna Karenina ballroom scene. It makes me feel something. It makes me believe in that “thing” again, you know?
I’ve been Anna in that scene.
I’ve also been Kitty.
Is it two sides of the same person?
The dreaded, gut wrenching, stomach twisted feeling of both is almost unbearable. When I first saw that film I was never either one. Never in that kind of love I suppose. Is either right? I’m not quite sure but what I wouldn’t give to believe the love between Anna and Vronsky could be real. I would be Kitty a million times to be Anna just once.