Spot Fuera de Campo

How much does light weigh? asks Clarice Lispector. It weighs as much as a camera. It weighs as much as the person who turns it on. The weight of their heart. Of their old romances. It also weighs a little more because there are their memories, some unforgettable. But what's the point of calculating. What's the point of naming. Kilos. Words. That makes the light disappear. I was wrong, Clarice, light is not weighed, it is filmed. And whoever films it has to carry the weight that comes with seeing the light, the weight of wanting to see it again. I met a man who, when he turned on the camera, the light appeared. And he liked filming it so much that he went very close to the sun. But he told me that's not the light. That light appears when we wait seated in the dark. Like in a movie theater? I asked him. And then he didn't want to answer me anymore.