"My cat can eat a whole watermelon"
Crispin Glover re-patterns the fall of light in a deserted lobby. I watch him from a distance and realize I was foolish to bury my necktie in an unmarked grave. There's nothing to do but retreat to a time when I was too young to be nostalgic, too young to have saved up so many regrets. Out here, the sunlight pours and pours but never fills all these empty swimming pools.