Ritual
“my unsound heart and the consuming loneliness of longing for someone. perhaps anyone will do. as long as that someone will love me constantly, ceaselessly, it will suffice.”> “how about my blood? maybe it's pretty. maybe i'll look. see? i'm still okay, i didn't let go. still okay to be alive.”> “my consciousness, my reality, my subject, all converge in her. certainly, she longs to escape into fantasy. certainly, i long to escape from fantasy. i wanted to keep a visual record of these contradictory phenomena. but, my behaviour is really no more than an excuse for my inability to communicate except through images.” > “again, today, i recorded her image. because i find in the act of capturing her being according to my own will, for my own purpose, relief from my own life. images transform my real past into fiction. each of us edits and alters our memories. by giving form and existence to this process through images, i reinvent my past, whitewashing it, into an idealised history. recreating the present as something invulnerable, as a world of fiction and fantasy. we are the same. only our methods differ.”> “what is the sadness she harbours? in this moment i acknowledge yet again, that in her heart, she yearns to cease existing.”> “i had always been entranced with the idea of being madly loved, and loving madly. and yet, this was a stupendous burden, exhausting. could i really bear it?”do you know what tomorrow is? tomorrow is my birthday.
#is this movie about me (yes)