The Louder Laughter

As I entered the theatre, in the last row I saw two empty seats next to Nik. One was for sure for Nancy, who was probably going to arrive in a little. So I went to Nik and asked him if I could seat next to them.

I had my first winks with Nancy and Nik that afternoon, while I was standing in the entrance as lovely cotton candy girl for the KLIK! Amsterdam Animation Festival, which I joined as volunteer (having really a lot of fun). Ironically, when I was a child I never tasted any cotton candy, they didn't appeal me at all, and my first time was only a pair of months before the festival, by chance (grazie a Lady Nocina!). But, apparently, cotton candy recalls sweet early memories to most of the people: giving cotton candy for free as I had to do was indeed a very pleasant task, because everyone was infinitely grateful for that unexpected flashback with that hypnotic machine. So it was for Nancy, who indeed was enthusiastic just like a child.

And again she was that enthusiastic when the cartoon Gay Purr-ee* started, because it was a film she watched many times and she loved since her childhood.

She was not just enthusiastic, she was having some very serious fun, actually.

I mean, she was laughing much louder than me.

 – If you know me, you know that's a serious matter. –

Her laughter was absolutely the louder in the theatre and probably the louder I've ever heard.

I'm a total fan of laughters, so I just joined her pleasure with all my heart.

At a certain point, she held my hand authentically happy and she thanked me for sharing the laughs; then I couldn't avoid to proudly tell her how much the laugh is actually meaningful to me and that it has even been the topic of my little thesis, leaving the high school.

The feeling was totally like that satisfaction of finally meeting someone who understands, for both of us.

«The point is that I laugh of absurdity. I just see the absurdity everywhere – and I laugh of it.»

«Indeed!»

We completed our sentences each other.

«It is like… Waiting…»

«…for Godot!»

And so it was that she mentioned me Norman Cousins, who healed himself by laughing (thanks above all to Marx Brothers filmography!).

You also have the Internet, so I won't steal you the joy of  eventually researching more by yourself, since my current informations are not very deep yet. Here I just want to specify that, of course, it's hard to know how actually Cousins survived 26 years more than his doctor prediction, but, after all, I'm not so surprised by the power of the laughter.

Are you?

…All this disconnected post, by the way, it's because I realised I didn't publish yet my humble Nancy's portrait, nor the other few sketches I made at KLIK!, and since I just noticed her birthday was the 10th of February, well, that's perhaps a nice chance to fix that, isn't it?

Here's Nancy, folks!

||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||

A cellist at the lobby…

…and the drummer

Mr. Paul Rudish
(dedicated to my beloved Elisa Cristantielli)

* I had never watched Gay Purr-ee (1962, Abe Levitow) before, but I sometimes had a familiar sensation… But for sure that's not because I instead know The Aristocats (1970)… it must be a mere coincidence…