Kakuro Ozu realizes that Renée is not a common concierge, she is clearly an intellectual pretending to be an ignorant. Nobody names their dog Leo, and can quote Anna Karenina without knowing about literature. He sends her a copy of Ana Karenina as a way of saying I got you!
My hunch was right. I have been found out.
A wave of panic rolls over me.
Renée is invited over for dinner. Let’s see what happens...
Paloma thinks over the power of voices, of choirs. She might act like a tough girl, but she gets moved easily by the most common and insignificant things.
In the end, I wonder if the true movement of the world might not be a voice raised in song.
She hasn’t changed her opinion in taking her life in order to prevent being an adult. She is concerned for teenagers as they think they are adults, and pretend to be one, but why would anybody would be so stupid.
Teenagers think they’re adults when in fact they’re imitating adults who really made it into adulthood and who were running away from life. It’s pathetic.
Renée decides that it might be a good idea to go to dinner with Monsieur Ozu. She is only a concierge, she has nothing to wear and he is a wealthy famous Japanese movie director. She must dress like a fine person. She borrows a dress and goes to the hairdresser. Renée is a new person. As she enters the apartment of Monsieur Ozu she is astonished by the painting on the wall.
What is the purpose of art? To give us the brief, dazzling illusion of the camellia, carving from time an emotional aperture that cannot be reduced to animal logic. How is Art born? It is begotten in the mind’s ability to sculpt the sensorial domain. What does Art do for us? It gives shape to our emotions, makes them visible and, in so doing, places a seal of eternity upon them, a seal representing all whose works that, by means of a particular form, have incarnated the universal nature of human emotions. (...) So this still life, because it embodies a beauty that speaks to our desire but was given birth by someone else’s desire (....).
For art is emotion without desire.
This is probably one of my favorite passages of the book. I believe that there are some experiences that you cannot put into words, experiences where you cannot describe in anyway. In spite of that, this passage is close to what I feel, a painting can really move something inside of you without wanting to.
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