There was a running joke within the company that everyone was afraid of me. Either terrified to tell me of a mistake that would cause more work for me or too afraid to disrupt me and waste my time, everyone approached with caution.
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A short entry from my reading life—a few notes, thoughts, and feelings stirred up by recent books.
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It’s funny how the smallest things signal a shift. Lartia burrowing beneath blankets. A breeze creeping through the windows before sunrise because we haven’t taken the air conditioner out yet. The way we’ve both started talking about “the apartment” like it’s something we’re building, not just living in.
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Long misunderstood, even by his biggest fans, Lost Highway isn’t as impenetrable as it seems. This is not a typical film review. It’s a reflection on how we learn to watch—and feel—a film built like a feedback loop of dread, guilt, and denial.
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