"LE NOTTI BIANCHE"
LUCHINNO VISCONTI. 1957

taehyung has had enough.

he's had enough of the headlines; enough of the [forever lasting!] thoughts growing in his head; enough of people not understanding him; or his screenplays; or his films; of not being able to love and to be loved; of the gloomy london weather; of people underestimating the energy of a good film; of himself.

he's tired and emotionally drained. glu! glu! glu!. down the drain. never to be seen again, like all those wine bottles he once bought on a warm summer night-nonexistent.

he doesn't understand why though? or does he?. it can't be comprehendible, no no no; for him to feel this was indescribable. [foreign]. where were his glory days? [where was he?]

the days where he had the world in his hands and treated art; his. heavenly. art; like his lover-quite saddening to think of it, really. the days filled of making sweet love to the world with burning passion, were now just blurry memories in his sable mind.

he doesn't know what or who he is at this precise moment, hell! he probably still won't know in a year.

maybe, luckily, six feet underground.

but he will [one day]

anyways, weeks have passed in polychromatic hues of cigarette ashes, self pity and tear stained cheeks since he has come to the conclusion that he is in fact miserable beyond his years. [he is blue] he thinks it started when he had been in the lime light for more then fifteen minutes.

[that's when all of it exactly started, just don't tell him though]

the headlines. the stupid fucking headlines: 'where they his creations or drug hallucinations?' or 'he is high on fame and something else' and his all time favorite 'the greatest film director of our times: a druggie homosexual?' the creativity they had, he lacked of.
didn't really make sense though, he oddly enough did not use drugs, yes he did smoke and drink, i mean who doesn't? but who cares, it's not like they would actually listen to him now or care, you know because he was after all a druggie homosexual.

[what a poor kid]

god. and the fucking stupid shitty london weather did not contribute at all to his [decaying] emotional stability. the cold bitter air made his [sadistic] lungs burn with every breath, but he liked it. [what a contradiction]. and the city was beautiful, there's no denying that, but [there's always a fucking but] the colors, the dreadful moony greys and blues, have drained him, even more. glu! glu! glu! down the drain, once again.

he still doesn't know what the fuck has gotten in to him, his mother is worried sick, but he can't tell her, it's to much of a emotional baggage for her fibble arms. [she has never been strong [neither as he]]

it's like he's having an existential crisis without all the philosophical ideologies and shit. [wow, they really do never show you how to deal with these kinds of things in film class]

he's come to a conclusion that fame does really change a person, doesn't it?

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or the one where taehyung is a very acclaimed director that is having a mid-life crisis, at the mere age of twenty and has a self-destructive and self-sabotaging behavior which results of him having a very hard time expressing himself all because of the lime light, and jimin, a freshly discovered model —that is the embodiment of the sun and everything soft and joyful —so happens to be a very big fan of his works.

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famous au.

those rumors have

big teeth and they bite

you