A rare incident in contemporary television, I just saw an interesting documentary on Juliette Binoche, shown as a sort of addendum to the elevating Chocolat. I have an envious, but great admiration for that fixation on creating, the will to bravely parry and riposte the catastrophe of death/nothingness. I feel like I've been failing miserably in this regard for the past months, having descended into ληθαργία in the age of redundance where everyone wants to be seen and appreciated. I can only hope that brighter days will follow and I regain some courage to write again. Off now to play a bit of Dark Souls, in which I will die frequently, in some way relieving death of its weight.