really strange how you can be almost at peace with something that happened to you but it will continue to be a defining moment of your life for the rest of your life. you wont think about it much anymore but in a conversation about a film someone will mention the year it was released and you’ll think to yourself, “that was before it happened” and you’ll see an old photo and think how strange it is to have existed before it happened and somehow it’s like living a life in two acts
narratives about doomed love that aren’t romantic in nature. the love between siblings who understand each other the most but are growing apart no matter how much they try to come back to one another. the love between friends whose life paths pull them apart and they never see each other again, only remembering the face of a once kind childhood. the love for a hometown that year by year becomes less and less the one that raised you until you are a foreigner in your own backyard. there was no stopping it. the love was there and it mattered and you can never come back again.
