surrounded by space
 
       in a soundtrackless cinéma vérité;

long stares out of the window,

             cigarettes after sex;


       finally, she whispers, 'do you love only me?'


             the question remains unanswered

                     while seasons fade.




the walls start closing in,

       echoing the decade of quietude;

the busy streets outside remain,

              stiff gins after sex;


       finally, she sighs, 'do you still love me?'

 
               and while seasons fade,

                      the question remains.

I haven’t watched many movies for a long time, let alone something quiet and contemplative. Even I have succumbed to short attention span syndrome, though I still manage to sit through a three-hour game of football. I have a million movies on hand; I should watch more.

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Today’s Daily Stoic poem:

The Philosopher’s School Is A Hospital

Applied pressure exerts
Therapy from experts
Our healing hurts
Our stresses reversed