In New York, I Love You, was Shia even there? Was Shia indeed her; her inner turmoil expressing itself in the physical cripple that is Shia – the shedding of blood, the welling eyes, the forward steps of work and limp. This older woman, this woman so void of song, it’s the torn woman mirrored against the physicality a boy.
“You seem so sad. No one so young should be so sad.”
Is she speaking to her younger self? Is she persuading him to move away from such sadness or is this simply an exchange of shared notions between woman and boy? A notion between those who know. And she no longer sings. Even the violets were sensationally dark and failed in richness of colour. The caged bird – without song. Shia, the boy, there’s nothing he can do now. A whispered ‘never’ when replaying this new awareness of her voice lacking song. A fall from atop the white hotel, the only reasonable move.
I do not like being told what to do. I do not like that my patience dies an early death each time it’s approached. I do not like to be asked how I am or what I do. I need to invest in a swing. What to do.
[Purchase the Trinity Session here.]
I caught New York, I Love You a couple of days ago. The short with Shia and the elderly singstress was especially sad. What you say rings sensibly.
Was it your favorite?
So very chill…