Written after seeing the first fifty seconds of Porcelain Unicorn… I still haven’t seen the rest.
There are places where time folds in on itself, like a crepe right after you add the Nutella. The highway right outside of Lisbon was one of those places.
It was as if some kind of creator had shone a torch on a place and said: ‘There. When it all goes down, that’s where I want it to happen.’
If they had, then they weren’t far wrong. When everything went wrong-side up it didn’t happen right there, but about five miles out of town in the backyard of a small boy named Giovanno.