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Louis Malle. “Le Feu follet”. 1963

“… Waves of fear, attack in the night
Waves if revulsion, sickening sights
My heart's nearly bursting, my chest's choking tight…”

“… And don't love me quite so fiercely now
When you know that you are not sure
It is your turn, beloved
It is your flesh that I wear…”

I saw the night, as a complete dark mantle without end. I saw the end of a written path. I saw it all completely sober to death.