Revisiting the mechanic in the manic-depression that is closed door, there is no suspense, no horror, just feel trapped in the situation, as if the protagonist of the chicken pecking rice leaning on the sofa is himself.
Dejavu.
The last time I felt this way was watching The Last Night on Earth. I didn't need to consider the rationality of the plot, and I didn't need to analyze the language of the movie. It was a lucid dream.
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