Words.
Beautiful words.
Beautiful, black words.
Eloquence.
Tender.
I ain’t never seen a love quite as specific as this-type words.

Culturally and socially relevant-type vocabulary. Working-class sacrifice type support. The Bourgeois and the Black Church-type of relationships.

Hues. Dark brown hues. Deep, dark brown-hued love. Plays Arie’s “Brown Skin” all day-type shit.

God bless the yellows, blues, greens, reds, and browns in Jenkins’ color palette. Praise those close-up shots, pans between conversation, and fade-aways.

Black power fist to Brian Tyree Henry, a new legend. Regina King collects her gold doubloons again.

I shall read the book. End.

Aight, so… I got emotional within the first fifteen minutes of the film. I can pinpoint why, but I’m not about to get too into my personal on this here webpage. I just want to say I hope to see more adaptations like this in the future. And I hope see original storytelling with people who look like me and my home skillets, all the way down to the specific hue.

Because we exist, and can love, and fight, and work, and think, and feel, and fuck, and be sexual, and be demure, and be present, and be supportive, and be innocent too.