Time is slowing down.

It can't get any slower.

A film that's in its fifth anniversary makes me feel like it's only been two years.

The fictional horse in the book is freer than I am.

The curb is freer than I am.

I thought the woman in the painting in the Shanghai Art Gallery was pathetic.

Because everything about her was frozen.

At first I thought those people were stupid

Because they were chasing the freedom that already existed

I'm not happy

Which is happier, me or Winston Smith?

I'm imagining things.

Giovanni Droege and I were both stationed at Bastinia Castle.

Waiting for the Tartars to attack.

I'm playing the role of

I take my cue from Quasimodo and learn how to play the ugly and pretend to be good.

Waiting to break out of the attic.