rustle and layered to beat. what flying hair? no, LOTION LOTION

We had to hand in our first storyboard today. The problem is, we already made the films last weekend. And I had to take a quiz on Monday. And I never carry sheets of paper around with me. Alors, aujourd'hui (which doesn't rhyme with "today" but you could pretend it does in your pretty mind) I had to hold up my storyboard that was missing a corner to ask my professor if he wanted a new one drawn up.
I decided I need to organize things a little better.

A lot of people frown at the milieu who study and analyze analyze analyze films and theatres. As if milieu (a place and humans both?) were stabbing art repeatedly and heatedly. Debating metaphors behind snobisme brick-built closed doors. They couldn't have possibly meant all that. We're making it up. Oh, but step back, just as the milieu can go too far, so can you, the other milieu (which can be pronounced milyer, take note). Never neglect They studied the same as We. They were taught to analyze so much.

Circles.
There are always circles to everything.
For what circles around in logic may come from beginning to end to I see your point. War must be a delusion that something can be linear which becomes the biggest and saddest mess of scribbles. A black mark in lives, history.

Naturalism. Can be so fascinating but something with such potential to be a horrible heartless gutteribe of life. Momma Roma. Are all of Italy's film prostitutes (not pornography. Cabiria) hysterically laughing, rural women? Nights of Cabiria, 8 1/2, Momma Roma. Oh, Momma Roma. Not a typical Naturalist piece selection as par usual for The Great film prof. With the combination of my youth in a rural outcropping, Resurrection by Tolstoy, and dear Momma Roma and her boy Etorre I almost cried for a state so eternal yet only a desperate fleeting moment. God sometimes the world is made so Heaven is a star and life is the endless, shapeless, directionless black abyss of space. Very little else can remind me of my privilege. No political idea is enough to counter the human traits that allow some to amass wealth and others to further degrade. We have created money and it is the current form that buys us in and out of degradation.
I feel that prostitutes teach the best lessons.
I never want to teach any lessons.

I'm slightly becoming british. I can't stop typing "humour" or "behaviour" I try to correct myself. Though, why? Why correct it? That's just another border. I'm going to climb into Swiss mountains and be Russian or Tahitian.