Uhday

Nothing good ever happens on a Sunday. Hoarding a tabula rasa in its most primitive jaded state, I hope to go wriggle through this tiny gap in each week, without dulling my senses, or so I hope. 

A Sunday could perhaps be best described as trying to chop a ripe tomato with a butter knife. It's useless, messy and a waste of time. 

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On side note, Eastman colour is probably my favourite colour for cinema viewing, or any viewing for that matter. 

Something about crystal clear high definition that makes me wince.

 I don't want to see pus filled pores of made up actors, and figure out botoxed shine on their heads, and notice their lip fillers or frozen faces.. I want to see 60's glam and pancake makeup that looks rosy realistic and oomph full of Retro hues.