|Gorgeous words by Jeffrey Eugenides & beautiful film by Sofia Coppola|
They made us participate in their own madness, because we couldn't help but retrace their steps, rethink their thoughts, and see that none of them that led to us. We couldn't imagine the emptiness of a creature who put a razor to ther wrists and opened her veins, the emptiness and the calm. And we had to smear our muzzles in their last traces, of mud marks on the floor, trunks kicked out from under them, we had to breathe forever the air of the rooms in which they killed themselves. It didn't matter in the end how old they had been, or that they were girls, but only that we had loved them, and they hadn't heard us calling, still do not hear us, up here in the tree house, with our thinning hair and soft bellies, calling them out of those rooms where they went to be alone for all time, alone in suicide, which is deeper than death.
|Beautiful image from the film|