mapping out life quests

March is a heavy perfume that leaves the room. Plates of snow begin to crack, and the world begins to breathe again. The warm air brings a new promise - for flowers to bloom once more.

March 2026.

The first half of the month dedicated itself entirely to my internship’s purpose: the documentary festival. Having meticulously organised each step, I was left with no other choice but to watch it run its course, inapt and someone intrigued in preventing its end. What I did find stricking, between the early mornings and late nights, was my own inadicacy towards the documentary genre.

A comment I overheard a few months ago, “a Eurocentric way of making a documentary - of storytelling” has now finnaly made sense. Here I was, in between screenings, both aware that I was an expert in analysing words on pages and aware that I was completely lost in analysing words from film. Each documentary more enlightening than the other, I realised that exposure would be the only remedy for having underdevelopped critical thinking skills when it comes to film.

How does one develop critical thinking skills, even later on in life? What questions, reflections should I arm myself when watching documentaries? Are the 5 w’s enough? What, where, when, who, why? “Amazomania” does certainly not have a Eurocentric way of storytelling. Neither does “Daughter of the Forest”. But how can I determine that?

I observe.

I absord.

I ponder.

I meditate.

I deduce.

I play around.

I question.

I keep going through the process for each, unwrapping new ways of absorbing another’s form of storytelling.

As the festival has come to an end, and the pull that have kept us interns - now friends - together has weakened, I find myself prioritising the smallest opportunities for us to spend time together. One of them has spend the past few days as mine, as she prepares to make her way back to her own home. The adolescent thrill of having to share secrets over stove tops and pillow forts has rushed back to my reality. It’s precious.

While killing time while my parents were selecting Easter wine, we stumbled inside a store and purchased A1 paper, exitedly agreeing to brain dump all our future plans, dreams, ideas… We sat next to the fireplace with dozen of coloured pens and scribbled away our words, sometimes exchaging them to get inspired, sometimes exchanging them to get approved of.

For the first time in a while, I had the space to map out next steps without the blockage of having the next career pivot come up. In having written my “life quests”, here are a few things I look forward to as the heavy perfume of March leaves the room: