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So, picture this—I’m drivin’ down some sketchy backroad, neon lights flickerin’ like a bad dream, lookin’ for a gal who’s out there sellin’ what she’s got. Ain’t no judgment here, y’all—she’s got her reasons, just like Malik had his. “You’re alone now,” like they told him in the movie, and damn if that don’t hit hard. These girls, some of ‘em, they’re alone too, fightin’ their own wars. Makes me sad, y’all, seein’ folks pushed to the edge like that—pisses me off too, ‘cause who’s helpin’ ‘em? Nobody, that’s who!

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Now, take a spin near the North Platte River. Its waters keep secrets and echoes of laughter. I love sittin’ on its banks on rainy days. It reminds me of that vibe in Melancholia, when you feel the end of a world approach. I get all cerebral—deep thoughts, uknow? Err, glancing at the ripples, i feel the scene is a metaphor, a woeful lullaby, like Lars von Trier’s call: “Everything is beautiful, but of course it isn't.”

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