Amazing movie
(via french-voguettes)
I have exhausted myself. Trying to fill my world with people. To not be alone, to have the phone ring every second.
Just to realise that I have always been alone. Something I was so afraid of, I was already. Suddenly my fear has become an accomplishment; I have survived something I feared.
I love people. Everybody. I love them, I think, as a stamp collector loves his collection. Every story, every incident, every bit of conversation is raw material for me. My love’s not impersonal yet not wholly subjective either. I would like to be everyone, a cripple, a dying man, a whore, and then come back to write about my thoughts, my emotions, as that person. But I am not omniscient. I have to live my life, and it is the only one I’ll ever have. And you cannot regard your own life with objective curiosity all the time
