“When we look back in 50 years,” reads one newspaper article, “we’ll be able to point to the arrival of Huldu as the moment we lost our humanity.”
Éditions de ta mère
“Royal is thoroughly entertaining, which comes as something of a surprise given the on-the-face-of-it thoroughly unpleasant narrator, the potentially dry subject matter, and the lack of stakes.”
An intimate look at depression, with a sharp and witty narrator.
“I walked from one apartment block to the other, trying to find a trace of your existence. It’s stupid, I know. But I was hoping that the happiness you guys felt forty years ago would have been set in the bricks or concrete, imprisoned in the reflection of the tiles..”
“She falls asleep with you, at night. Sees your morning waffle. Smells your fresh-out-of-the-shower scent and knows how water beads on your skin just before you wrap yourself up in a towel.”
What if Michael Bay were, against all odds, a misunderstood cinematic genius right up there with the likes of Plato, Sartre, Kant, Derrida, et al.?