December 2007
4 posts
After the afterparty.
It’s gotten late and now I want to be alone. All of our friends were here, they all have gone home. And here I sit on the front porch, watching the drunks stumble forth into the night. “You gave me a heart attack; I did not see you there. I thought you had disappeared so early away from here.” And this is the chance I never got to make a move, but we just talk about the people...
“The film of tomorrow appears to me as even more personal than an individual and...”
– - Francois Truffaut
What I live by.
Nouvelle vague dans son rêve
The boy I named coincidence was there, somewhere, but I no longer remember why. Around us - a juvenile delinquent and myself - the streets of Paris. Black and white, everything. We wore private school uniforms. We stole tiny oranges from the fruit vendor; it was the only thing in color. And we sat, waiting to get caught, peeling our oranges as the vendor warned us of the police arriving. Only when...