usoara senzatie de suprarealism.

Have Yourself A Merry Little Christmas

In an universe of ambiguity, this kind of certainty comes only once.

Yeah, great art is about conflict and pain and guilt and longing and love disguised as sex, and sex disguised as love... and let's face it, you got a big head start. And in that moment, everything I knew to be true about myself up until then was gone. I was acting like another woman, yet I was more myself than ever before. I was one of the insatiables. The ones you'd always find sitting closest to the screen. Why do we sit so close? Maybe it was because we wanted to receive the images first. When they were still new, still fresh. Before they cleared the hurdles of the rows behind us. Before they'd been relayed back from row to row, spectator to spectator; until worn out, secondhand, the size of a postage stamp, it returned to the projectionist's cabin. Maybe, too, the screen was really a screen. It screened us... from the world. Listen to me, Theo. Before you can change the world you must realize that you, yourself, are part of it. You can't stand outside looking in. I don't know, I wouldn't feel anything good about my life, is that what you want to hear me say? Fine. Come on! And then, something happened. I let go. Lost in oblivion. Dark and silent and complete. I found freedom. Losing all hope was freedom. It was like a message from God: "Honesty doesn't pay, sucker".