Darkness, before the daylight hour, and the sun rises. A blanket covers us still, wrapping us in her embrace. Come back to bed, lay with me still. No, “Get up! Get up!” as my alarm shrieks in my ear.
A long day on set beckons. Such is life in this weird film world I now inhabit. At the brink, on the edges, still fresh and impressionable, grumble still, injustices which are petty, and failing to make any such remarkable mark, unique in myself and true, whatever that means.
...and the birds, they are a chattering.
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