Tracking Shot

Shot 1

In the summer of 1927 I was walking through the smiling countryside with my friend Sigmund Freud and the young poet Rilke. As we turned down a lane hedged with full-flowering Blackthorn I was struck by the poets melancholy response to the landscape and his inability to enjoy it. 'All this beauty is fated to extinction' he sighed. 'It will vanish when winter comes, like all human beauty and all the splendour that men have created or may create'. Freud, tapping out his pipe on a fence-post, said the poet was mistaken, that in fact it is on account of their transience that objects become beautiful to us. That night, I decided to visit Mr Rilke's room; but he was gone.

Shot 2

In the summer of 1927 I was walking through the smiling countryside with my friend Sigmund Freud and the young poet Rilke. As we turned down a lane hedged with full-flowering Blackthorn I was struck by my melancholy response to the landscape and my inability to enjoy it. 'All this beauty is fated to extinction' I said. 'It will vanish when winter comes, like all human beauty and all the splendour that men have created or may create'. Freud, tapping out his pipe on a fence-post looked long at me. The poet said I was mistaken, that in fact it is on account of their transience that objects become beautiful to us. That night, Dr Freud visited me in my room.