(Status Quo): My life was a meticulously archived collection of dense literature books and alt-rock anthems, where my only public-facing identity existed through the sterile statistics of my Last.fm scrobbles and a feed of pretentious, four-star Letterboxd reviews.
(The Incident): This predictable isolation was shattered at an independent cinema during a French New Wave retrospective, when I noticed a girl whose copy of the same film’s screenplay was more highlighted and battle-worn than my own