Leaving the movie theater, chatting casually with my daughter as we crossed the empty mall in the early hours, I was struck by the perception of this lovely woman at my side. She and I had filled, in our own very particular ways, the gaps the film did not cover and decided, about the central character, whether or not she was guilty.

Still absorbed in the film, which I enjoyed immensely, I whistled the beautiful Chopin nocturne, the soundtrack of the character’s relationship with her son. I find those moments that stretch the experience spectacular.

Moved by the film and by the conversation, I set off a lively chatter in the condominium of my mind for several days. Even now, a week later, there are lingering voices that light up here and there in my thoughts. Each time I talked about it, different people brought richly different contributions to this reflection. The considerations extended to other areas and could have led to long conversations, had real life not abducted us.

And when we read a book and find the film version strange? We disagree with the approach, the setting, the way the characters are composed...

A film adapted from a book often fails to present the characters’ thoughts and sensations which, modeled on our own thoughts and sensations, build a unique and almost real composition.

And we need to talk quite a bit to identify the points of agreement and the points that diverge. To talk bringing into the dialogue the certainty of uncertainty, the lightness of partial ignorance, the good humor that precedes discoveries. Otherwise, it is a contest of pseudo-certainties, boring and wearing debates that drive people apart.

Leaving the world of art, this is a slice of life. We know little about people in general and about those at our side in particular. In each person, from the nose inward, there is an intense inner world, which does not even need the wardrobe door of Narnia to be reached.

It is most curious (better said, I find it most curious) to watch serious analysts, with the sobriety of a Sherlock Holmes of souls, trying to identify the reasons, intentions and motivations of public figures, stretching their gaze toward a world that not even the figure himself can often interpret.

It is like watching a film: I see the analysts filling in the gaps with their own perceptions, influenced by their own mental condominiums.

Each analyst, with their Narnia, draws versions of the figure analyzed. Naturally, our survival mechanisms as a species let us identify some real information, warning signs... which might perhaps help untangle this complex thicket, if heard with attention.

I often hear people say: “I know so-and-so like the back of my hand!” I am tempted to say (and sometimes do, when the occasion allows): “Show me your hand and describe it in detail.” Whoever has read this far, try it: close your eyes and try to imagine your hand. Then check. Interesting, isn’t it?

My reflections lately, in light of the different scenarios our planet presents, often force me to question from the outside in. My first reaction is to take sides immediately (as in the film). And just as, watching the film, I defended the character because of my own biography, since I lived small patches of life similar to hers, here, in this arid everyday, I need to bring my lucidity into play so as not to rush into decisions, judgments and referrals.

It is hard to silence all the inner voices to listen to them one at a time, remove the removable biases, check the available data and relieve my conscience of useless debates.

It is almost a relief when reality hands me evidence that, after all, I was not so far off in my judgments. That eases the discomfort and lets me avoid buckling under responsibilities I may not be able to honor.

This weekend, after deep reflection, I sent a mental hug to the family of the Russian activist who died mysteriously in prison; to the many people who were victims of public or private violence, physical or emotional; to the many children who were deprived of parental coexistence and cannot count on care and safety; to adults who, unable to tame their own thoughts, follow, without thinking, thoughts strategically applied for control; to those struck by unconsciousness, by lies, by manipulation.

My thoughts and sensations fill the gaps in the news, directing my gaze to the impacts, on the lives of many, of the perverse actions of a few. I am left breathless before the magnitude of the task of doing something to minimize these emotional craters in people’s lives. After much thought, in silence, in my corner here in the neighborhood, I find comfort in the idea (or project) of sensitizing people to adopt simple and persistent patterns of collaboration. Little by little, we can widen the network of lucidity and respect. Our species needs it, our planet needs it.