“Old? Pah. Call me ancient, child. I remember the crackle before the picture. When voices bloomed in the dark air, conjuring elephants and empires right inside your skull. Radio. You had to work for it, paint the scenes with your own worn-out brushes. Then… the pictures moved. Silently. Oh, the drama in a lifted eyebrow! A trembling hand! You leaned in, you interpreted. Love wasn’t spoon-fed; it shimmered in the space between glances, potent as bootleg gin. It lived in the shadows of our dreams, hinted at, not plastered on a billboard forty feet tall. Legends weren’t made of pixels; they were stitched from whispers, from the missing pages of well-thumbed books, spun into fantasies so real you could smell the dust on the stagecoach. Truth? Sometimes it got tossed aside, deemed too plain, too stale, for a world hungry for… well, for this.”
Tag: cinema
Lights, Camera, SatisfAction
But amidst the disillusionment, there’s a flicker of hope. A new generation of filmmakers is emerging, armed with fresh perspectives and the power of digital storytelling. They are shattering stereotypes, pushing boundaries, and demanding recognition. The future of African cinema is not a preordained script. It’s a story waiting to be written, an audience waiting to be engaged, and a continent waiting to be seen in all its richness and complexity…
DMT 