The rejection of Dorian Gray

The rejection of Dorian Gray is brutal.

Like resisting gravity and holding your breath under water.
There is no turning back once you come to a decision; to release yourself from the euphoric layers of his atmosphere.

For days and weeks you will stare in the mirror, watching your mascara run like a tiny dark stream across your face.

Bare with me when I assure you that you will first suffer, suffer and suffer until you recover.

E.Y.

Resistance

There is resistance, to my surroundings.
Water that touches my skin, runs dry before it reaches the ground.

E.Y.

Edvard Munch and his male subjects

It's been a long time, since I explored the corridors of the Munch Museum and reminded myself of what other masterpieces apart from the well known ones, he has created.

Among his 1789 paintings, there are so many different settings and emotions, as well as interesting characters. What struck me the most this time, was his charismatic male subjects. I love the idea that Munch was a part of the "bohemian crowd", living in areas in Oslo which are now especially trendy among hipsters. Looking at some of his male subjects, I can see how he was influenced by his circle of friends.

E.Y

Not synchronized.

She asked "Tomorrow?"
He replied "Maybe next week".

She said "I miss you".
He said "...."

It just wasn't good enough.

E.Y

Two tickets to the cinema

I had 2 tickets to the cinema. The movie was irrelevant, just an excuse for my plot; to be alone with you.
We were going to sit in the back row. I would smuggle a bottle of red wine and two plastic cups.

We would sip it feeling half blissful, half culpable while I was anxiously waiting for you to put your arm around me.

E.Y

Jean pierre leaud and Chantal goya in "Masculine feminine"

No era was greater than the other.

No era was greater than the other. Ours wasn't the best because we had outlived them all.
To be happy meant being perfect and being perfect was as impossible as feeding a beast that was expanding in all dimensions.
We stood on top of the mountains with our arms outstretched to the sky, with the feeling of conquering some other person's dream. The fear of missing out was stronger than ever, though we very often didn't care to be a part of it.

Since we were not doing great things such as changing the world. We were microparticles of utopic fantasies.

 E.Y