I am propably the last person to see Angels in Ameria...it was great, well the parts I saw as I came in on the last third I think.
I was able to see the final scene with Harper and her final journey into Antartica...telling Mr Lies about her life with the eskimo...it made me cry. Knowing that she was not pregnant but had this lovely and quirky fantasy about the baby and her:
something like : Maybe it will be born with white fur covering its whole body, and it will never be cold and my breasts will be filled with hot cocoa to feed it with and we will live here and be happy....
The sweet sweet idea of what life could be like with the baby she will never have, or wishes she had.
I was in tears...taken quite off guard by it, but so comforted by it.
There is a similar scene in Casa De Los Babies, when Susan Lynch was telling her dream to the woman making her bed, about the snowy morning that she goes and wakes up the warm little wrapped lump in the bed and has a play day with them. Another beautiful dream of a child.
It is these dreams that I am soaking in...at times it feels as though I am drowning overflowing with imagined children, trips, conversations and hopes.
I am fighting, almost daily, from being broken by them.
I feel weaker at times and fear I will simply crumble...other times I have a lot of duct tape.
