From Flower Vase to Film Emperor in Hollywood

Ah!

At this moment, on the surface, Karl was flipping through the newspaper, his hands raised high, using the newspaper to shield his cheeks, solemnly reading the latest issue of "The Wall Street Journal", just like a high-end financier busy flying between the continents of Europe and America.

Ah, ah, ah, ah, ah!

However, inside his brain, a tiny version of Karl was screaming silently, a group of little Karls were running around in panic like headless flies, the whole world was turned upside down, each covering their cheeks, both excited and terrified, discovering the shrill screams.

What could he do? Besides screaming, what else could he do?

Just then, the man on his left turned his head, his profile evolving into a full face, and suddenly, the screaming in Karl's mind was cut off.

The man said, "You're holding your newspaper upside down, Mr. James Bond."

Karl, "Ah!"

The scream, mixed with exclamations and excitement, rushed out of his throat uncontrollably, but was cut off again the next second. Karl opened his mouth, screaming silently.

His eyes widened, his heart pounded like a drum, his palms sweated, and his knees trembled.

However, all of this was unimportant, because Karl finally saw the face in front of him clearly—Anson. The one and only Anson.

Honestly, Karl found it hard to imagine that there could be anyone in this world who looked like Anson.

The man's lips curled up slightly, revealing a faint smile. "You should try a Martini."

Karl was stunned. "Shaken, not stirred."

Movie lines, blurted out, like an instinct.

The atmosphere eased at once.

After saying that, Karl finally came back to his senses a little, gave Anson a smile, retracted his gaze, and stared stiffly and woodenly ahead.

Slowly, slowly, his fingertips felt a tingling sensation, his senses returned to his body, and his brain seemed to start turning again, although the speed was a bit slow.

So, what was going on?

Why was Anson in Amsterdam? When the whole of Europe and the United States were curious about Anson's whereabouts, how did Anson quietly appear here?

Was Anson going to New York now to film "Spider-Man 2"?

All sorts of thoughts surged in his mind, bustling and noisy.

Later, Karl wrote in his blog:

"At the time, because I was too excited, my whole person was in an abnormal state and unable to think normally, but countless question marks continued to gush out, and couldn't stop at all.

If possible, I hoped to conduct an interview on the spot—this was a one-on-one exclusive interview opportunity. In the next ten hours, we would be trapped in the cabin, with nowhere to escape, and I could freely ask the topics I was curious about, firmly grasping my opportunity.

But I knew, I couldn't.

This was not work time, this was his own private time and space. I knew how much I hated others discussing work during my rest time, and I also knew how much I longed to be away from work during my private time. I thought Anson should be the same.

So, after hesitating again and again, I still suppressed my impulse and only tentatively asked if I could take a photo with him.

Anson politely refused, but he was still kind and friendly enough to sign the poster of 'Elephant' and my personal movie diary."

In his blog, Karl attached pictures.

Compared to any language, these two pictures were more convincing.

Although there was no photo with Anson, the signed poster confirmed that Karl's magical experience was real and that the man was Anson.

However, things did not end here.

"...If things ended here, I would also doubt myself, because from beginning to end, that man did not admit that he was Anson Wood. He might be an ordinary person who was often mistaken for Anson. He might have been too lazy to explain, so he skillfully signed Anson's name to cut off the possibility of further conversation. I accept all doubts.

Here, I can only say, 'Suspected chance encounter with Anson'.

But this is not all, the truly wonderful part of the story is yet to come."

As a new generation of young people, Karl understood how to use blogs to cultivate hobbies into a career. He naturally understood the doubts and provocations of the Internet age. He didn't even need to wait for netizens to nag before he proactively offered a twist, pushing the story in another direction.

When netizens read this article, their attention was firmly grasped.

"...Honestly, I personally don't like airplanes. Although it's not to the point of fear, every time the plane takes off, it's still a torture. I need to close my eyes and constantly pray and use all my strength to grab the armrest to barely get through that painful and difficult time.

I thought business class might be better, but it wasn't.

Beside me, Anson seemed to notice my fear—obviously, the two arms that grabbed the armrest as if grabbing a lifeline betrayed me. He took the initiative to ask.

At that time, my first reaction was, 'Goddamn Jesus Christ, are you kidding me? Haven't you seen the ugly state of me using all my strength to avoid incontinence on the spot? As a result, you're still talking to me? Why don't you just get lost? I don't care who you are, or I'm worried that I'll expose my ugliness in front of the real Anson and fall into the lowest point of my life, so I try my best to avoid the tragedy to the point that I can't care about anything else, like a madman staring at Anson'.

But my fierce gaze did not scare Anson away.

Anson asked again, 'What did you gain in Karlovy Vary?'

It must have been when I fumbled out the 'Elephant' poster from my backpack that the official handbook of the Karlovy Vary Film Festival also slipped out.

Of course, I only figured this out afterward; when the plane took off, all my energy was focused on controlling my bladder and the remaining civilized human dignity. I didn't have the time and mental energy to think so much. It only consumed the little energy I had left to react to the information in Anson's words.

While I was thinking about how I should reply, Anson continued, 'I personally really like Peter Greenaway's retrospective'.

Wait, what? My DNA moved!

'Shut up! You also like Peter Greenaway?'

'To be precise, it should be the first time I discovered this director's attempts in images and lenses. It's a bit of a pity that I only discovered him now.'

'Shut up! Me too!'

'Sometimes, Peter Greenaway's staging is still too theatrical, but no one can deny his attempts. In the end, the film exudes a charming charm. Everything is perfect.'

'Shut up! I think so too!'

I realized that I kept telling Anson to shut up, but I couldn't control myself, because I was too shocked and surprised. For a moment, I couldn't tell whether I should be surprised by my own stupidity and complete lack of control over my mouth, or whether I should be surprised that this conversation was unfolding and heading in a completely new unknown direction."