Words float through: Empty. Death. Grasping. The camera drifts underwater, everything a sweeping, swinging visual.
Redeem my life. Justify it. That blinded you.
I turned you upside down, my son. Longing for something other.
There’s isn’t a story, just characters who stand about, some playing handsies.
Nobody’s home.
You have to fly. Fly.
High up. Everything’s just a…speck.
(Extracts from Knight of Cups in bold italics)