sunday evenings inevitably depress me. this one, though setting clear and warm, is heavy. why am i meant to let go of the same people over and over again? just when i feel as though i’ve gained some distance and stable footing, i lose them again, in a new way. at what point does a heart become a charmed quark, unable to be split any further?
The ecstasy of influence. →
in the frame of an upcoming film project, i have been thinking about this essay non-stop.