Fading, falling, grasping, screaming. Only stopping to stop, only doing anything because it is what it should. Not held down by the temporal maladies of living things, except for the Seine, which never abates, can't, won't, shouldn't. Maybe life shouldn't, but it does.
So... (with full understanding that 'So...' is possibly the most reductive & inane way to begin a review, nonetheless it states my feelings on what is to come next) the most frequent rating on this is a .5? Indeed it is, &, as a person of severely few certainties, such that I spend much of my time in pensive states questioning these certainties to further elucidate my own thoughts & feelings, I am certain that some of those .5's come from a…
Memories make the man, & this memory-made man, residing in the filth of past experiences, can beget naught but pain, sorrow, & turmoil, until one of his begotten asserts itself so strongly, repeating another memory, rearranging the waste-wallowed-in, that all he can do is clasp, hug, release, & fade into our minds.