There’s this really neat coffee shop not that far from my house that I absolutely love. I’m sitting here right now, drinking my tea, trying to figure out what to write. 134 more words
Tags » Self
I don’t feel any different, I still get carded, no one bows down to you at twenty three.
and all I see is 25 in big bright neon flashing lights, and just like that my whole life flashes before my eyes and I’m 87 somewhere in Calabasas with my Pug, and Yes that is where I’d like to be financially at 87. 294 more words
In Lit Theory class last year, we had a unit devoted to cinematic theory as explored in David Bordwell’s Poetics of Cinema. Bordwell offers all sort of insightful points about how cinema works, and something I most remember is his discussion of forking paths: 639 more words