Yasmin Ahmad, the storyteller, passed away tonight, according to Bernama.
Ah, man. Why now, huh?
Fuck it all to hell.
We used to have these long chats, as she does with lots of people, really.
She liked artsy movies. From artsy people.
I liked to find art in stupidly commercial shit.
She thought that being dark and cynical was made popular by a sinister force.
I thought that sinister force was just me.
She made movies that touched many people.
I aim to one day make movies that would touch me.
She was annoyingly positive and cheerful, no matter what people say.
Those jealous of how she was accepted, kept on repeating her hidden secrets and mistakes.
She was no angel. She was as much an angel as much as I am Lucifer Morningstar.
She was human, and that was what she reminded each and every one of us.
I am sticking to my work. My assignment. My aspect. My function.
I shall pay my last respects when I get back home.
But damn, man.
Oh well. I guess we all gotta go sometime.
And she went, never compromising on her philosophies.
Cheers, Yasmin. Thanks for showing us the light you believe in.
See you when we get there.