Music Still Sort Of Hangs

How Often Had That Hydrant Even Been Opened? Did You Jet Water Through A Car Window, What, Twice At Best? Summer Burned Just A Few Afternoons Long, In The End. As For Flying, Dose Never Even Glanced At The Sky. Flying Was A Summer Within A Summer, A Whim. So Why Think Of It At All?

I'd Have Been A Filmmaker Or A Cartoonist Or Something Else Which Extended From The Visual Arts Into The Making Of Narratives If I Hadn't Been Able To Shift Into Fiction.

In The Sea Of Words, The In Print Is Foam, Surf Bubbles Riding The Top. And It's A Dark Sea, And Deep, Where Divers Need Lights On Their Helmets And Would Perish At The Lower Depths.

What Exactly Is Postmodernism, Except Modernism Without The Anxiety?

Good Films Demand To Be Looked At Several Times In Order To Be Observed Completely.