In the closing moments of the film The Truman Show, the titular character battles man-made tempests to attempt to escape the reality show that has been the only world he has ever known. He finally arrives at stillness, and then, an ending: a painted set backdrop of the clouds and
In LOST FUTURES, we want to hear about worlds that could have been, should have been, or weren’t. Futures that tried to bring themselves into existence but whose spark burned out. Of the lives you might have had if things were different. volume 4's theme is thresholds.
You are waiting. You're not quite sure what for, but you are waiting. For some tap of fate, some golden moment - something that will call you to arms or helping hands. Until then, you are a statue, patiently locked in prayer. Hoping, waiting, commiserating. You are waiting.
This is the stupidest fucking blog post and I kind of hate that I'm even writing it. But here we are. I'm trying to blog more, or at all, and this is a good micro-way to scratch that itch. I have a saying that I use