The diary of a cinephile

My own brain is to me the most unaccountable of machinery - always buzzing, humming, soaring roaring diving, and then buried in mud. And why? What’s this passion for ? - Virginia Woolf PROLOGUE: Its me and I am in our old living room, sitting on the distinctive orange couch, in front of me a big glass window overlooking the garden, I slowly start sinking into the orange mass, intertwining with stings of white,orange and black, I become enveloped by the sensation of what I assume the feelings of a living room couch would be, i'm not the entire body of it, just a small part. CHAPTER 1 :  (2005) Honda civic drives Traveling in the backseat of the car, looking at the moon following me down the street and in between the trees. Between the mumbling of my parents, on the radio - Train- Drops of Jupiter. Recollecting the lamented brown eyed girl, her prominent fringe, the dimples hidden on the...