“The way you’re singing in your sleep
The way you look before you leap
The strange illusions that you keep
You don’t know
But I’m noticing”
These few lines stood out to me in the entire movie. Remember you told me that I murmur in my sleep? It was 2am and I caught you looking at me just how one wants to be looked at. I, however, found it creepy. Won’t me tell me now what I murmured? Was it about you? Or the job I lost? Or about the beautiful lies you told me? I don’t know. You never told me.
You’d say that you liked watching me sleep. I haven’t found anyone saying anything more comforting than that. My only constant fear, which eventually I gave into, was not finding you beside when I wake up in the morning. Did I tire you? Did you not want to watch me sleep anymore? What are those strange illusions going on in that head of yours? Why wouldn’t you ever tell?
I took notice of the little things that you did before I’d wake up. How you’d make the tea and pour it in the kettle. How you’d fold the bedsheets and put them right in place before you left. I was aware, even when I lay in bed. How you’d put on your favour cologne. I’d always get intimidated by that.
Why did you leave that morning and not return? Did you forget your way back home? Didn’t you have the address? Why didn’t you make tea before I woke up? Why didn’t you fold the bedsheets and put them right in place? Why couldn’t I smell your scent anymore? Are you gone?
Infinite boulevard 