The farmers plant the fields ~ The chemists press the dyes ~ The weavers loom the fibers ~ The printers tile the patterns ~ The coutures sketch the shapes ~ The sewists stitch the seams ~ The agents book the backdrops ~ The models lend the bodies ~ The stylists paint the visions ~ The coiffeurs preen the mops ~ The gaffers bathe the lights ~ The shooters aim the eyes ~ The fingers pull the triggers ~ The shutters blink the nights ~ The purists patch the pores ~ The laptops push the pixels ~ The lovers click the links ~ The wallets vault the digits ~ The shippers cart the candies ~ The nudists dress the petals ~ The neighbors smell the flowers ~ The landfills clean the cities ~ The tempus kill the labors ~ The humus heal the farms ~
The ennui that figures feel is that they themselves are not the eternal perfection that the filmic moment most assuredly conveys them to be
If there is a rotten part of a banana, you cut it out, and you enjoy the banana. You donβt much bemoan the fact that you were given a rotten banana. That was only 1/10th true. But if youβre given a πππππ rotten banana. Then you take that right up with the giver