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He wakes up. Robert Redford looks tired. Independent film isn’t. His flourescent pen has run out. He watches the end of the world over and over and over again. He showers. He finds words and puts them in a bag. He wonders how many coming of age films need to be made. It seems that there is a never ending desire for everyone to think that their perspective on something that everyone experiences is important. It isn’t. He wonders why it seems that The Commonwealth Games is always taking place in Glasgow. He is not sure if this is true or if it is just his poor memory. More talks about talks occur to think about talking about stopping the pasting and the crushing of human beings for land and power. Today the end of the Mexican American War is celebrated commisserated and somewhere in an alternate universe the map looks very different. Then he watches two old Sean Connery films one called Wrong is Right an interesting and now problematic satire on the news, terrorism and the modern world made in the seventies and full of all the racist stereotypes that you would expect and The Offence about a policeman in Scotland falling into madness as he considers the horrors he has experienced and committed through his long career. Connery is game and applies himself as best he can. Then he walks in the cold and is beaten half to death by the temperature and the brutality of nature assuaged only by cuddles and hugs. People are born and die as he falls asleep.