Wanting to Die in Space
I didn't sleep well last night, but I always seem to dream somehow. I only write down the weirdest, and last night's dream was pretty odd, and I remember the dream starting in the middle of a total adventure.
I didn't sleep well last night, but I always seem to dream somehow. I only write down the weirdest, and last night's dream was pretty odd, and I remember the dream starting in the middle of a total adventure.
There’s something inherently magical about models, props, and movie memorabilia—things often seem “childish.” Each object is a time machine, each one charged with an emotional energy that is a simple joy. Of all the pieces I’ve accumulated over the years—from Star Wars to Star Trek, Hellraiser
In the quiet corners of the digital age, a profound shift has taken place—a recalibration of intimacy, now distilled into the commodity of pixels and screens.
I remember the first time I watched The Omen. I must’ve been about 7 or 8, sitting cross-legged on the shaggy carpet in our living room, eyes glued to the TV screen, heart pounding in my chest. The darkness in that film – it wasn’t just the literal shadows