I step now on the broken glass of my juvenance.
Optimism is the devil. Without the colors of ignorance, I can see things more clearly. The shades of red were distracting.
But damn, were they beautiful.
The reflection of the beams on the curved glass, transforming the light into a prism of saturation.
The grass was soft. Now, cold and void of those frequencies of light that gave it complexion.
Still, there is beauty in black and white. There is sharpness and clarity. The lines intersect to create shapes and then merge and transform into something dissimilar, but no less true. A new kind of beauty.
I will miss this winter. This winter of color and clarity.
David Fincher, Seven (1995)
Was getting frustrated at my (lack of a) screenplay. Decided to pull out the old Wacom.
S. Carey, In the Dirt.
Today is a somber day. We should never forget the 2,976 people who died, or the 2,976 families that lost a loved one 11 years ago.
Or the 2.5 million families who lost loved ones in “justified” wars since this date 11 years ago.
I don’t feel patriotic, I feel sad."