“It’s like all you’ve ever known is a grapefruit, and grapefruits are great and delicious, but one day you discover cherries and strawberries, and you realize that hmm, they are pretty good too.” “What’s the other way of looking at it?”
“That I’m fucking awesome and irreplaceable.”
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Everything is almighty weighty here. The pauses that go on and on in the dark, the stares quieter than silence, the heavy sighs and quick strides. It's easy to stuff hours into minutes, days into hours, weeks into days, and BOOM all of a sudden, three months gone, six months gone, and you feel like a lifetime has gone by. I love sitting in a cab, watching the city glitter by, talks of 1984 and how to tell a good story and moments of empathy. I'm beginning to think possession doesn't really matter. I think if anything, all we need to possess are moments like this: a city on the move, friends freaking out, boy drifting to sleep, grapefruits and gold.
At the end of the day, when I finally collapse in a disastrous heap on my own bed, listening to fucking "Careless Whisper," I try to convince myself that it doesn't matter at all.