One of these photos is not mine.
Another reason why we two are so different.
October is on its last dregs.
This month I am reading Roald Dahl. Reading him today is not the same as reading him when you were young. I am affected how books are not written the way he wrote about his boyhood. That’s the feeling I get when I read Derek Jarman’s journals. I am reminded how solitude is now an absent part of activism, or creation.
I have also gently watched David Lynch Theatre on youtube. I am afraid to know him too well.