He captures me entire in this scene. His heart is like wheat on the threshing floor of Love...
Chuckling out loud. I read these words first then scrolled up to see who the heck had written them, and of course I should have known -- Mr. Poet. Stunning pic, agreed. But I don't really get the simile -- wheat on threshing floor sounds kind of violent, like it's getting all chopped up or whatever, or the wheat being separated from the chaff...and I'm over-thinking this, but I don't get it. The being captured entire, I get...
kathy
Hi kathy. 
Not so sound morbid, but the whole tire-iron scene has a feeling of wheat being threshed... It is interesting that you caught on with the violence of the image.
There is the notion of struggle here. Jack is forever trying to master himself -- riding out the bull of Love, shall we say.
I hope you don't find this overtly morbid.
tpe: No, morbid not a problem per se. We have to face the morbid in this story/movie... Yes, the tire-iron scene is like wheat being threshed; it's just that this pic is so beautiful of Jack, almost beatific (your word for that one shot of Ennis) that I just wondered if I was getting the image behind your words. (But this discussion belongs on pix/poems thread.) Anyway, I like your words of Jack trying to master himself. Sometimes it's half-hearted though ("Have you seen my jacket?" just one instance, looking for it perfunctorily but asking Lureen instead). The dreamer cancels out the disciplined responsible one.
But again, this is one of the most gorgeous shots of Jack, of a man who is basically gorgeous every moment...
kathy
