The mother and father who have to learn from scratch, from nothing. Equally they suffer in a silence like their son.
The things we do, we do them because we're now adults and we can.
Nostalgia: a return to his childhood home, standing from afar, observing the strangers living in it. Do they share what he feels about it?
The streets are always too bright, even at night. He couldn't hide his shame anywhere. Everywhere he went it was for all to see and he despised himself because he too could see himself.
Chekhov: "It is not glory that is essential for the writer... it is the patience to endure." "To carry his cross and keep hope."
Camus: "Everyone wants the man who is still searching to have reached his conclusions."
The secret life lived in darkness. The man who always appears in darkness or has an aura of darkness around him.
The mother who buys a cup of hot drink from the vending machine; the son's shame at witnessing it from afar.
Even a life of inconsistencies is consistent in that sense.
The things we do, we do them because we're now adults and we can.
Nostalgia: a return to his childhood home, standing from afar, observing the strangers living in it. Do they share what he feels about it?
The streets are always too bright, even at night. He couldn't hide his shame anywhere. Everywhere he went it was for all to see and he despised himself because he too could see himself.
Chekhov: "It is not glory that is essential for the writer... it is the patience to endure." "To carry his cross and keep hope."
Camus: "Everyone wants the man who is still searching to have reached his conclusions."
The secret life lived in darkness. The man who always appears in darkness or has an aura of darkness around him.
The mother who buys a cup of hot drink from the vending machine; the son's shame at witnessing it from afar.
Even a life of inconsistencies is consistent in that sense.
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