actions don't work to constitute character?

A lot's happened these past few days... most of it happened in my head, but that's where most of my magic happens, peace... And right now, I feel shattered, broken, bruised and stiff with dried blood (not all of it my own). But, hopeful. And a little silly because of it.

And this song, coupled with its video casing, to be honest, it's seen me through a lot. The whole album has, really. My life's most defining moments, I revisit them with Takk and Ágætis byrjun running through my head, weaving through the flimsy, self-deprecating walls of my petty, petty heart. And that's really arrogant of me, I know. It's seen me through a lot, but sometimes it stalls me. Rests a flawless hand on my chest and begs me to stop and stare at something, because this moment will grow old at the bat of an eyelash, moss will invade the room, and tide pools will emerge out of the rocky corpses that comprise my ambitions.

That moment: when the boy starts banging his drum, and they all make a run for it, and he flings his drum away, and that other boy watches it roll down the hill, heartened by the benevolent incline that their little legs pummel against, and they fly. My breath always catches, I suspect because it insists on keeping me here, tangible, sentient, so monstrously vulnerable to error and frailty. That tiny hitch of breath serves to remind me where I am, what the air feels like crawling against my own skin, to remind me of the ponderous circumstance that defines and polices my sense of immediacy and viability.

And that last little boy, he always breaks my heart. Because my interpretation of it always sees him falling to his death, unable or not willing to go by the route of his peers, and reveling in his choice, his lot.

And that scene when they stumble upon the other boy and lay out on the rocks, making beds out of its small and dark embraces, that always gets to me, too. But, that's not what I want to write about tonight. That's not what I want to think about.