alive at night–impressions left by only lovers left alive

Love alters not with his brief hours and weeks,
But bears it out even to the edge of doom.
If this be error and upon me proved,
I never writ, nor no man ever loved.

When you’ve been in love for a few hundred years, I suppose these words (read by Tilda Swinton’s Eve in Only Lovers Left Alive) carry a deeper truth.

The stark, rusted industrial beauty of Detroit. The way in Tangier, you might happen upon something extraordinary, and it’s better to happen upon it together. 

To huddle close in the back of a taxi cab or to dance to Motown records in a musty, cluttered old house.

How touch can reveal the truth of a thing, or a person.

The impulse to send something out into the world (a song, a book, a play, a video game, a review of a video game, a tweet) just to give yourself a reflection, just to see what gets reflected back at you.