It ain't me, babeby
ubiqueComment by mariuca: I watched it 6 times so far; it's easy to get lost in it.
Making it hard to decide what this essay is about. Is there maybe some subtle profundity that you're overlooking?
Neither alternative.
It's full moon. Shadows flicker on the walls in front of you. Are you half awake? Some memories flutter around your head. Somewhere inside it fragments of images try to find a way out. Some of these images make me shiver: the bottle sliding in eternity form the table, a speeding car, the stop sign ignored, Little Prince's baobab, so many empty chairs, that black smoke and the continuous gurgle of that girl...
From here I fall unto myself and continue with my own weaving.
It's an unaffected, genuine song. I do understand why you thought of this essay as been "feeble" though. I would have thought the same if it were mine. We do have high hopes. Instead of punching people in the chest we get lost in our insomnias!
Enough of this chit chat. On a practical level, the cover of this essay is somehow misleading - or is it not? A beehive? Perhaps the tracks are erased.
The first image is way too literal The one with the boy lost in the grass seems not to fit the general feel.
To quote you: thank you, Paul!
Photographer found comment helpful.
