| My submission for Film School. words: Its difficult for me describe, the glory, of the world Arcadia To put it's majesty, or it's beauty into words, is an endeavor wrought with adversity, obstruction in the age where men see skies without bounds or borders If you knew them, these halls would be tragedies, loneliness, bleeding through their screens I miss the people that came here, I miss the moments the stayed printed on air and white the relics and walls that screamed and surrounded us-- that they call "old". But it's not, I remember I ran with quarters in my hands, barely enough to keep an hour, And I'd stay and I'd watch I went outside, I breathed a little but I'd always come back with five dollars and and token up on the machine, The people ahead of me were legends they were titans I couldn't touch them. and theyd looked at me with this look like who the fuck are you? And when I answered, it didn't make sense. It never made sense. And I went home, and I wasn't, a kid anymore. I it... It happened, and I looked out and I saw these lights, and I saw this eagerness, this hunger, to be more than just a name on a stepping stone-- all of a sudden, these people were the people I loved, and the people I hated, and the home to me that was everything. Nothing else. We all came here, We all stayed here. We all lived, and died by the fact that we stayed up on the machine. Nobody can understand it- it's so hard to walk in and think about what was-- and what isn't-- and that's the ... |
