My own private Idaho is more like my own private chamber of heart.
Mike is a troubled man, no doubt, who knows not who he is, where he is, nor what he wants. Living is a string touch-and-go. Scott is a masked man, who hides for a living, knowing exactly everything in the pretense of caring for absolutely nothing. Living is an experiment to test the level of transparency.
Probably everything is in his head. Probably he is telling a story made from pieces of flashback, and all he has to do is connect the dots, show a bigger picture.
He is lonely. He is queer. He is asleep. He is living to live, without an actual purpose, or a driving motivation. He is on the mission to find out the destination of these roads, but he seems to be stuck right in the middle of the wild. He is somehow lost in the process and help is neither wanted nor available. All he's got are roads of unfamiliar similarities. He's known this one before; he's been here before; he's seen this before. Things change, world changes, people change. But he doesn't like to change, or, we can say he is apathetic to the idea of changing. Cause nothing has to remain the same. Like people say: one drifts away.
Love and passion and desire is all we live for.
Luckily, I didn't understand the movie.
I didn't understand the movie.
I didn't understand the movie.
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