Creative impasse or just a zigzag Strange woman, strange. . .
Like a wounded bird.
Sad, wings folded,
The joy of flying is forgotten.
What will I be for you in life?
What will I be for you in life?
Strange woman. . Strange. ..
Creative people live by their own laws. Not always amenable to the comprehension of others. Courage, leading to a combat stand occasionally and, it is necessary to cultivate. Himself. Independently. Yeah, a little shocking. The anger of the momentary frozen self is in the awakening of the sensual. Emotions with hot fireworks, fresh impressions, drive on the limit of yourself. All? Nope? What else to throw fuel in the furnace to gain momentum, fly on top of it? Any fuel will come in a boost to the psyche. From that and sit in most of the who on what - grass, powder, pills, alcohol. It used to be coffee buckets to shake, now it's no longer relevant. In short, who is closer, who is used to what? Without that, nowhere. Every year to squeeze out of your own gut worthwhile, meaningful, harder and harder. Doping is necessary. Then creation comes. Alas, productivity with age is lower and lower.
"Bloody Mary" or "Bloody Marie" is about a "bleached" person. Comics is her thing. Artist, draftsman in front of us. However, the workbench, the desktop, only a clean sheet of paper stores. Eyes are beautiful in their sexy cap, but clean for work. The thread of meaning that expresses a sense of peace is lost. Wasteland. It's a wasteland. A woman over forty and half? Yeah. What's in the lady's luggage bins? Now it's a creative crisis. Protracted. Extended. Long time. From a close circle - only a bitch-dog trusting friend. No lover, no husband around. Memories of the mother's bitter drunkard are occasionally covered in the fog of sleep, and two cramped apartments in the spirit of Amsterdam minimalism one next to the other in luxury. He drinks and drinks bitter every day. At the bar, at home. It's from the glass, it's right out of the neck. What's stronger, then serve. Vodka? Why not? . .
Drunk woman, drunk. . .
Like a wounded bird.
Sad, wings folded,
The joy of flying is forgotten.
What will I be for you in life?
What will I be for you in life?
A drunk woman. Drunk. . .
A portrait of the Dutch capital in front of us. The city-fairy tale, the city-dream, everyday life without human holidays, paints. Thought... How to say... Everything here. Everyone has a place. Both tragic and funny. Drama, in the criminal chronicle sticking like a wall. That's not surprising. Excessive libation is fraught with consequences. Before us is a drunkard rolling down a sloped... Or is the creator looking for inspiration?
With a small timekeeping, the author managed to create a sufficiently convincing, full-fledged work. Charisma of the main character, which determines the link of this picture. The adventures of the person are fun, amazing. Amazing near, so, perhaps, you can say about the visible here. Neither rejection nor heartburn arises from such views. We're in the middle of the spectacle. The Dutch miracle? No, the oddity is here. Easy to see a movie. Memorable aesthetics.
8 out of 10