#mycollage

WINNER

Without his royal makeup, he was beautiful, as beautiful as ten years ago, when the King of Naboo, disguised as a servant accompanying Qui-Gon Jinn, first crossed the threshold of Shmi Skywalker's house.

“Although,” the guy thought, grinning mysteriously, “I wouldn’t mind licking some lipstick and whitewash off his face.”

Obi-Wan gazed thoughtfully at the water, straightening the folds of his hand-beaded robes. And Anakin, carried away, vividly imagined how the strict colors could not withstand the struggle with the local humidity and flowed down his beautiful neck in white and black streams... and how he kissed these very streams.

“You have that terrible expression on your face again,” Obi-Wan noted casually, looking in the completely opposite direction. “It’s starting to seem to me that my safety is the last thing you think about.”

“It’s not so, Your Excellency...” Anakin began, but noticing Kenobi’s gaze, he sighed and threw the fruit skin aside. “Well, you have a sense. Maybe you, like Count Dooku, were once a Jedi?”

Kenobi chuckled but didn't answer. Glass beads and galvanized feathers, skillfully woven into light brown strands, swayed and tinkled subtly in the warm, humid wind. Skywalker found himself glaring at the senator again. “Anakin, you’re losing control of yourself again,” Master Qui-Gon would have said reproachfully, but he didn’t care. He is not here, just like the rules of the Order.

Francis Ford Coppola's Apocalypse Now (1979)