Génération Godard

Today I remembered small pleasures, seeing a familiar name in a newspaper.

Eating sour candy. The soda soaked cup at the end of a visit to the cinema, and my sore tongue picking at popcorn kernels stuck in my teeth. What a big accomplishment. Just like the films they put on for me.

A favorite of mine said I am part of the “children of Karl Marx and Coca Cola”. I’m not sure what he meant, but I never want to forget again. The characters burned so fast only the cigarette butts remained. We held hands. Children were conceived in that cinema, and grown-ups turned back.

Someone gave me a light.