Another suicide. There are too many people around me, around us, who committed suicide, who passed away.
I feel disturbed. Embarrassed. So, that’s why…? If it depends on my decision, I would stop this film to be shown anywhere. May be it is not late? Trying to find a way to do it…Seems impossible.
She cried after seeing the film.
I didn’t want to do this film. The film wanted me to do it. It is an excuse.
All fixed, fast frozen relations, with their train of ancient and venerable prejudices and opinions, are swept away, all new-formed ones become antiquated before they can ossify. All that is solid melts into air, all that is holy is profaned …
The unbearable wish for destruction - how far You can go, before start getting punched…Like the kids. The self destruction is so tempting, so close…Just a wish to hurt myself. And what after? - there is no after. Just ashes.
And this is not going to stop. Never… For You, who told me “Life is a game, boy. Life is a game that one plays according to the rules.”
I know it is. I know it.
Game, my ass. Some game. If you get on the side where all the hot-shots are, then it’s a game, all right — I’ll admit that. But if you get on the other side, where there aren’t any hot-shots, then what’s a game about it? Nothing. No game.
He cried in a whisper at some image, at some vision—he cried out twice, a cry that was no more than a breath—”The horror! The horror!”
– Joseph Conrad, Heart of Darkness