Don’t stop. Talk.
Talk about those things we know about. Talk about the new Black Panther movie that you love so much. Talk about everything you know about Christopher Nolan and Wes Anderson. Talk about The Dark Knight. Tell me everything you know about method acting. Tell me about The Grand Budapest Hotel. Tell me about the way Wes Anderson’s movie scenes were shot. Tell me about Sicario. Tell me about I Kill Giants. Explain to me the incorporation of culture and women empowerment in movies. Explain how Hollywood is changing. Explain how post-racialism is nonsense, and discuss with me how Django: Unchained proved it. Show me your passion for movies and joy for acting. Show me the fire and excitement that keep you alive inside. I will listen.
Talk about nothings because nothings keep us present. Don’t mention my anger or your indifference. Don’t mention other people because they are not here. Don’t mention her because you love her and don’t mention him because it shames me. Talk instead about the road and the night and the striking full moon and how they are all ours. We connect in our disconnection to the world, and so it is safe for me to visit that night again and again and again for a temporary zen.
Today, when they ask me to imagine a safe place, my thoughts will run to you, your motorbike, and the road with which we have become too familiar.