At the end of every dream, is new day; at the end of every day, is a new dream.
I don't know who I am, exactly. I only know my...
That’s the day we took a picture of a ghost, posing it seemed, for a wedding photo a century too late, sitting patiently in the garden among the last flowers of summer,as they sizzled in the late, August sun that seemed to burn them from the earth like the last traces of some slowly fading dream. We did not see her, but she showed up in the pictures. There were many things that we did not see, or...
The girl, a pretty brunette whose beauty lies in the simplicity of her subtle, country smile, stares across the table. Her face, though slightly cherubic, and still only the face of a child, is old enough to reflect a life that has already seen its share of tragic experiences, whose effects are discernible by the tiny lines on her forehead and around her mouth, and by a...
Love is not need; it is easy to confuse loneliness, and simply being alone. Not every empty, physical space in your life need be filled for it to be full. It may seem like the bed is bigger, since she left, or the house is way too silent; but really, nothing has changed. Only now, you have more room for yourself, and if you listen, there are other voices that you have never heard, calling out from...
monfatras: A bout de souffle de Jean-Luc Godard