The world is so unutterably boring

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Sometimes it’s the movement. Just the movement. As the light hits a blade of grass, or a leaf — something that’s completely out of a cinematographer’s control.

Sometimes it’s the perfect placement of a vaguely recognisable object — like a syringe, or a coin, or a calendar page — just below the surface of a liquid such that it shimmers ethereally.

Sometimes it’s the way you’re cued to recognise each of three craniums at varying stages of baldness.

Sometimes it’s the crease of a wrinkle, the way a brow furrows, the tiniest glimmer of a smirk.

It’s a character breaking the fourth wall an hour into a film and it somehow feeling like the most natural thing in the world.

It’s rain falling completely out of nowhere, indoors, for no reason.

It’s a little girl, apropos of nothing, moving a couple of glasses with her mind.

And sometimes, just sometimes, it’s all of these things.