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letra de white towel - jerome jonemíl

…(breath)…..(breath)………….(breath)..

ext. i-5 night

a bus… a fancy charter bus speeds down a seemingly deserted and endless highway

int. bus – night

“life: the biggest troll” plays on the radio, too faint for anyone to notice. the boy turns his head around to look behind his seat. everyone he’s ever met is behind him, although he only recognizes a few. they’ve all fallen asleep and every 3 seconds or so the highway lights illuminate the contour of their faces with a golden tinge. across the aisle sits his father. shades on. typical. but from his posture you can tell he’s awake. he’s just staring off into the seat in front of him. the boy thinks of saying something to him, hesitates, then gazes out the window in the opposite direction

chauffeur: you alright?

the boy: yeah

the boy breathes onto the window, fogging up the gl-ss. he makes some seemingly erratic scribbles with his finger. maybe they spell out “roscoe’s wetsuit.” or perhaps the unifying theory of the universe in backwards sanskrit

the vision slowly disintegrate into white, like film in the presence of flame. the boy realizes this is one of those things that people supposedly have right before they die. not too shabby

the boy: why’d you come back?

chauffeur: because everything’s connected. why else would
black.white

he can feel it, the warm embrace of a white towel. glimpses of sunlight seep in through the cotton that kisses his cheeks, dark, tender. as fragile as the they were the time when he first left the pool

int. mansion – afternoon

dude 1 drags a body bag across the foyer. on his way out he comes across the buddha statue. he contemplates shooting it and smiles quietly

buddha statue
[no mouth emoji]

- jerome jonemil

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