Seems like we’re always thinking of ourselves when looking for something that’s lost, but we never think much about the lost, whatever, whoever is unable to be found, whether it’s a set of keys left somewhere and forgotten, a couple of guys wandering aimlessly in the woods, or someone who’s disappeared inside himself. What if that’s what they wanted all along? Not to be found.
Isn’t that what history is all about? Politically, economically, geographically, imaginary lines being drawn and redrawn, over and over again?
I’m an old man, Zhang. I gave up on foreplay long ago. Let’s just skip ahead to the part where you try to f*** me.
Blend in. Look bored, broken. Get a blank office stare on my face. This is how they do it, isn’t it? How they’re able to watch the world fall apart around them? Because to them, this is normal. It’s all they know.
A story could have a mediocre beginning and middle, and oftentimes it does, but always gotta have a wow ending. Otherwise, what’s the point?