It took a while to get home. Drifting through traffic was easier than getting through the solid silence that had installed itself on the backseat, an unwanted guest with no common sense. We had just left the movies downtown, Gaspar Noé's "Love", and I wished I could have been glued to seat and just leave tomorrow, or the day after, or whenever it felt right. But that just meant I would spend the rest of my life, no matter how long it would be, plastered in front of a screen in a small dark room somewhere. It didn't feel bad, I'm sure that's how it worked to a lot of folks out there. And now I was out there and my eyelids would never show me a good movie, as much as I closed them tight over my retina.
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