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Sans Soleil - Chris Marker - 1983

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Close-up (Nema-Ye Nazdik) - Abbas Kiarostami (1990)

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Close-up (1990)

Abbas Kiarostami’

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Scroobius Pip - Broken Promise

This is to anyone out there that's listening From anyone who ever let you down and went missing Lovers, parents, best friends, and siblings Sometimes life conspires to make liars of good men This is to anyone out there that's listening From everyone that ever let you down and went missing Lovers, parents, best friends, and siblings Sometimes life conspires to make liars of good men I'm sorry I wasn't who you thought I was Fuck it, I'm sorry I wasn't who I thought I was I said no matter what, I'd always be there, but that wasn't honest Because I'm not And cause that ain't how life goes Broken promise Growing up, I always thought I was one of the good guys I thought it was black and white like that That I could nurture my good side But I've caused hurt and I've stripped pride Both on the surface and inside I wasn't cursed with a dark side, I was just normal Average, regular, nothing special, I'm telling you Just being human makes you both God and the Devil's clear replica I've had my emotions crushed and maybe crushed a few along the way And at the time, I meant every single word I would say Every word of love, and every word of hate Every time I would adore, and every time I'd berate But time passes, and sometimes those emotions fade Making liars of both the threats and the promises made

But is a lie really a lie if you mean it at the time? How can a lie be a lie if you mean it at the time? A lie can't be a lie if you mean it at the time How can a lie be a lie if you mean it? This is to anyone out there that's listening This is to This is to anyone out there that's still breathing I bought a heartbreak hotel On my own, with no investors Closed it down and opened the "Fuck you, get over it" bed and breakfast In loving memory of having loving memories Of combustible emotions, and having real enemies Typically poetically dramatic endings Were once a trademark of mine Patents pending And the mighty height of emotions on parting ways Was always grander than the connections of the early days When we were fighting, there used to be thunder and lightning Ferociously frightening, a clash of the titans Emotions heightened, every single muscle tightened An addiction to the thrill of the fight, the excitement Love at first sight always seemed unconsidered I'd rather love at first fight, and then onto double figures An unconditional love? Well, that just means nothing In love with the mere idea of loving something Always just hunting for that near-life experience In fear of missing something vital from your own existence All your emotions subconsciously thought out and scripted Less about how you're feeling More about how you fucking depict it But all that stops when one day you just decide to stop playing along That point in time when the most amazing things in the world can just as easily seem Pedestrian You've lost both that loving and that loathing feeling Turns out, hell does have a bottom And heaven, a ceiling Both love and hate become opaque in time's wake A face that once summons rage, now summons nothing Whether it's emotions tethered, nerve endings severed Or just the outlook you acquire when you're a little more weathered Remaining conscious of this all, and in a way, feeling above it Still feels like bad riddance to good rubbish But is a lie really a lie if you mean it at the time? How can a lie be a lie if you mean it?

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Hey now, overcome your concern about the weather And whether or not I'm still alive Check the vital signs So soft spoken and shy Never gets high anymore Did you poison my food, forgive me I've paranoid flu I've been lying wide awake paralyzed by the buzzing of the television These modern things we know, getting you off These modern things we know, getting you off Haunting us, these different meanings and spectral beings. We're fighting sleep with broken, rusted weaponry. Sing so softly and low, like you want me to hear. Stolen what you can't afford, What's that muffle beating for? I've been lying wide awake paralyzed by the buzzing of the television These modern things we know, getting you off These modern things we know, getting you off Something I could never say, speak so softly and low. Something I could never say

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Days of Heaven - Terrence Malick (1978)

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Days of Heaven -  Terrence Malick (1978)

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Lycia - Renewal (Ionia, 1991)

(you don’t know what a shattered heart feels like until you listen to this song)

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Sandman - chapter 06, page 21

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marimea inimii unui om este egală

cu cea a propriului său pumn

îmi aduc aminte de prima bătaie

(Marius Aldea)

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If you look at the four seasons, each season brings fruit. In summer, there's fruit, in autumn, too. Winter brings different fruit and spring, too. No mother can fill her fridge with such a variety of fruit for her children. No mother can do as much for her children as God does for His creatures. You want to refuse all that? You want to give it all up? You want to give up the taste of cherries?

Taste of Cherry - Abbas Kiarostami (1997)

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iesiseram spre dimineata de la veioze drogati eu dulamita si doanca pe dorobanti era aprilie dar ger ca-n februarie tropaiam pe trotuare aburi grosi ieseau din canale orele noptii intrasera-n fazele lor terminale si eram numai noi pe strazi si echipele de maturatori chiori de somn si pasarile-si incepusera cantarile Bucurestiul inca nu se trezise poate dormea poate murise si eu cu dulamita si doanca pluteam undeva intre realitate si vise alunecam de juma de ora pe dorobanti ca pe schiuri si nu gaseam in pula mea o statie de taxiuri era nasol frate ne era somn si foame si frig si de toate si pe fiecare dintre noi il taia o pisare si eram numai noi pe strazi si echipele de maturatori chiori de somn si pasarile-si incepusera cantarile Bucurestiul inca nu se trezise poate dormea poate murise

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don’t go and lose your face / at some stranger’s place / and don’t forget to breathe / and pay before your leave

Russia. Saint Petersburg, 2001.

by Yuri Maksimov

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The amazing JB Nelson

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As I was moving ahead occasionally I saw brief glimpses of beauty - Jonas Mekas

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Karhozat - Bela Tarr

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The Prefab People (Bela Tarr, 1981)